Isobel 5 - Black Man's Plaything

An image appeared on the screen. A man leaning against a tree and smoking a homemade cigarette. Instead of blowing out the smoke he inhaled deeply before letting it trickle out of his nose and mouth. Lazily he opened his eyes and looked at the camera or presumably at the person holding it.

"About time?"

His friend must have nodded because the man carefully moistened his fingers and extinguished his cigarette with a technique that indicated much practise. The remainder went into the capacious pockets of his track pants and he sniffed a little before lazily scratching the dark skin of his chest where his unfastened shirt revealed it.

The camera moved position a little as the phone was carried up to scan down a long track which was also shaded by trees. Several seconds more movement and the camera saw beyond the trees to where a strong sun was beating down on parched and blanched grass. The camera moved on the spot and captured more grassland with men and women laying out to capture the sun's heat and power. A typical piece of city park on a summer day.

"Yeah." One word spoken under his breath proved that the camera was being held by a man and that he had apparently approved of whatever he was looking at.

He moved back those few seconds into the trees and apparently into a different world. The noise of the people on the grass receded and died away. The calm and shade of before was restored. The first man was looking up the track way and obviously waiting for something.

They had got their timing right. Within a minute a woman emerged round the corner of the bend, her long blonde pony-tail whipping from side to side behind her cap as she jogged along the track.

The waiting man stepped onto the path with outstretched arms and a broad smile. The jogger saw him and returned the smile. His arms closed around her and their mouths met in a long deep kiss of reunion.

"Where's your husband at Faith?" The man with the camera laughed as the woman responded with a raised middle finger while never breaking her kiss with his friend.

He was in his late thirties and Faith perhaps five years younger. Both old enough to know exactly what they wanted. He had high cheek-bones and very dark skin. His strong hand held her booty through her jogging pants as they kissed. When Faith finally broke the kiss and looked up into his eyes her face was afire with anticipation.

Watching the video clips you could not fail to be struck by the women involved. They ranged from their early twenties to their late thirties, they were all white and they were all physically attractive. Faith absolutely fitted that template. Her natural blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, her eyes were a brilliant blue and her smile was a delight, A naturally attractive face was made even more so by her obvious enthusiasm. Her jogging outfit didn't hide her finely proportioned feminine curves.

Her man took her hand and led her off the path. It wasn't busy but enough people used it and it was way too close to the families enjoying the sun out on the grass. The man with the camera followed as they moved further into the woodland.

A little way into the trees the camera picked up an old hut - probably used to store maintenance equipment in the past. Now it appeared abandoned, the door broken in by someone looking for anything they could sell. It seemed unlikely they would have profited much.

A few feet of scuffed concrete was laid down in front of the hut's door and an incongruously clean blanket had been placed down on it. This meeting had clearly not been accidental.

A gold stud glinted in the man's ear as he turned, his smile framed by a short dark moustache and beard. He reached out and his dark fingers showed a beautiful contrast with the fair skin of her cheek. "Faith - you are so fucking fine." He moved his face forward and she met him, her hands gently holding him as she kissed him again and kissed him hard. Dark hands pushed aside the straps of her top and then, the kiss still unbroken, unfastened her sports bra and let it drop. Now the kiss broke but only to allow him to kiss and lick her exposed breast. Back for one last kiss and then he stepped back and with a natural swagger pushed down his track pants.

His cock was hard even before her hand gently stroked it. The slightest movement of his head and she was dropping to her knees on that conveniently placed blanket. She began sucking him with her bright blue eyes looking up into his dark ones. Her hand stroked his shaft as she sucked, allowing the light to pick out her wedding ring. His cock was big but made to look larger by that dark skin. She sucked on about half of his length, the other half stroked by practised fingers. This wasn't their first time. Faith knew what her man liked and was obviously keen to provide just that. His dark hand stroked her hair with an unlikely gentleness for a man of his physique.

The camera had not moved since they had reached the planned spot and now anyone could understand why. A whistle sounded, short but loud. The couple froze and it was obvious the warning came from the second, unseen, man. There were faint noises of someone passing through the trees. After almost thirty seconds of nervous waiting there was the sound of a single hand-clap.

That was clearly the all-clear. Faith giggled and then resumed sucking her man's cock. Only enough, however, to make sure he was still hard for her. Then she looked up into his face and very deliberately said, "I need you to fuck me now."

He reached down and helped her back onto her feet. Then he moved her against the wall of the old shed with her hands against it. He eased her jogging pants down her legs until she could step out of them. Then he wetted his fingers with his mouth and moved them to her newly-exposed pussy.

Faith moved her legs slightly apart and bent one knee forward. The invitation was clear if unspoken. The man eased forward and his cock found her.

"Yeah - come on - fuck me."

He didn't need the encouragement. He reached for her hands and pushed them up high above her head. She responded by arching her back a little to push the round curves of her butt out further. Meeting his impatient, hungry, thrusts. Offering herself to her man as he finally gave her what she wanted and needed.

His hands moved to her shoulders as if to hold her there but they weren't needed. Faith wasn't going anywhere. She had surrendered herself totally to her man and to her men. There was no hesitation and there were no regrets. You could see that in her face and in the way her body reacted to him, responding to every thrust of that Black cock. His hand grasped her pony-tail and the muscles of her neck became taut, showing under her pale skin.

"Fuck yes!" There was power behind those words even if they were almost snarled out through her gritted teeth. She still knew that this was too public a place to be too vocal.

His free hand came down on her exposed butt cheek and slapped it. Then he squeezed it hard and left the pink outlines of his fingers on her pale skin.

"You giving us what we want Faith?" His voice was low and level but still clear above the sound of their fucking,

"Yes."

"All we want?"

"Yes."

He smiled at that and picked up the pace. He released her hair and now his hands were on her breasts. Claiming them as he had claimed her pussy and as he had claimed her butt. Dark fingers worked her hard nipples and Faith gasped. Moved her body off the wall and further toward him, greedily meeting his thrusts.

It couldn't go on much longer. Each was powered too strongly by their desire for the other. Was it his cock that finally made her shout out loud in pleasure or was it the realisation of her own beautiful surrender? Either way her warm welcoming pussy had earned her reward. The man grunted and pushed deep into her, keeping up a few more almost automatic thrusts as he shot his heavy load of cum as deep inside her as he could.

The camera turned now and scanned around but there was no-one there. If anyone had heard her cry out then they had ignored it. The man holding the phone moved in close as they stood breathing hard. The man was pulling up his pants while Faith moved, on legs that were a little shaky, to pick up her bra and top.

"That a good celebration girl?" It was the cameraman.

"Perfect." She smiled her perfect, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, smile straight into the camera lens.

"Celebration?" The man had retrieved his half-smoked joint from his pants pocket and now lit it up again.

"Our girl here thinks she might be earning our 500 points."

"Yeah?" That had his interest.

"I have to wait a week yet," she admitted, " but I think so." She put on her sports bra and winced a little. "You didn't help much - you have strong fingers." It was a statement of fact without a hint of accusation.

He went to offer her the joint but hesitated. "You allowed this?"

She took it and drew the smoke deep into her lungs. Finally she relaxed and smiled at him. "For another week at least." She handed it back. "Now I have to get back to my husband."

"He know?" That was the man with the phone.

She shrugged expressively and pulled her top down over her flat white belly. They walked together back through the trees until they reached the path.

"See you later guys." She set off with exactly the same loping jog that had brought her to them. Once again her blonde pony-tail swung behind her at each step. You could almost have believed that none of it had ever happened.

The man crushed the last of his joint under his foot. "Not too subtle man. Didn't Jerome tell you her husband bailed?"

"Shit - you ain't baggin' me?"

"Nah - it was his fantasy but reality didn't match up whereas for our girl there it was just the reverse and with extra topping too."

"Fuck it - that bitch is way too fine for any cracka anyway."

"Ain't it just the truth. Anyway let's roll I hear that..."

The sound dropped out as the screen faded to black and then to a card. 'Score for Heights confirmed - 5 points for public sex and 1 point for a creampie on camera. Provisional score of 500 subject to confirmation video. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

The video was a few weeks old. That particular contest had now concluded. This time it really had looked like Madison or Stratford might pull it off but the Heights had come over the top for a sixth straight victory. It had been close - only fifty points between the three crews but the Heights always scored real big in the last month. It was well known that their leader Jerome took a particular pride in that. Still there was always next time and there'd be another contest along in just a few months.

***

It had originally only been planned that Zoe would stay over for a week. That, for various reasons, had been extended somewhat but now Isobel's young blonde friend had gone back to college.

Isobel missed her but Zoe's departure had also been something of a relief. Those last couple of days it had been a little difficult to look Zoe in the face. Not with the knowledge that her friend was featuring rather prominently in her dreams and that those dreams were unambiguously sexual in nature

That was the problem with prying into other people's affairs and listening at other people's doors. You could find out things that then took on a life of their own. Each evening now she was chatting online with an African-American man who made no secret of the fact that he wanted to fuck her. That was quite sufficient to rock her previously placid life but Zoe - well that was something else entirely.

It wasn't as if they had grown up together or that there was any huge age difference between them. However, Zoe was her sister's step-daughter. Definitely not someone who should be featuring in those sorts of fantasies. But, but...

That didn't mean there was any sort of a blood relationship and until last month Zoe had basically been a stranger to her. It also wasn't as if she hadn't experimented a little with girls in her early college days. None of that had to necessarily be an issue.

However, she was here house-sitting rent-free courtesy of the generosity of her sister and Zoe's dad. She had grappled with the problem of what, if anything, to tell them about their daughter's activities. Ultimately she had decided that by telling or not telling she actively betrayed either her sister Hayley or her friend Zoe. Instead she had deferred the decision until it really had effectively already been made. Simple passivity transformed into an acceptance she was going to keep quiet.

It was an entirely different matter to become involved in some sort of a relationship with Zoe. It was unthinkable even if she could not now pretend that it was unimaginable. After the first couple of nights the dream had not returned but the fact that she had it at all had been disquieting. What was happening to her? It couldn't all just be the rebound from her failed marriage could it?

It was ironic that chatting to Mack had come to seem so very normal, so much a natural part of her life. Only a few weeks ago she would never have imagined doing such a thing but now she somehow needed it. It wasn't all about sex. They would talk fashions and design. She would try to pry information out of him about the contest - never with much success. Mack always told her that everything she needed to know was out there in the videos and stories and she knew that was true. She didn't need to ask really. The fact he liked her to dress for him and also to undress for him told it all really. She knew that for him she was an object of sexual desire and she knew that right now that was just what she needed to know. Even if, as a modern woman, she also knew that she wasn't meant to feel that way. Any doubts on that score hadn't survived long. When you felt a certain way you knew it and no amount of social pressure made the slightest bit of difference.

Isobel went to her mirror and put in her large, frankly gaudy, hoop ear-rings. Mack loved to see his girls in big hoops. Now just the process of putting them into her ears sent a thrill of anticipation through Isobel.

She made a last check of her room. Today's package was on the desk by her lap-top. She had her office chair and otherwise had left plenty of room in front of the camera. She needed the space for when Mack wanted her to strip for him. Again she felt a little spike of excitement at the thought. She loved getting naked for him - loved it most when he got his Big Black Cock out and stroked it for her. When she could imagine being there with him, naked and ready to serve him.

Modern women weren't supposed to want to do that either. There was just something about Mack and most of his friends that made all such thoughts irrelevant. It wasn't just that they were all African-American. That made them attractive to her and Zoe and how many more but that wasn't all or even most of this. Mack had that sense of total confidence, of earned experience and of easy control. She found that particular cocktail utterly irresistible and that feeling hadn't diminished as they had kept virtually meeting. Quite the reverse in fact - every day her attraction to him seemed stronger, her desire to please him more acute.

A couple of minutes before the appointed time she made the connection via her lap-top. Mack always liked his girls to be on time. Sometimes he was a little late but he would always make it up to her by staying on a few minutes longer. Mack seemed fair with his girls.

The thought sent a smile onto Isobel's attractive face. She always felt the same when Mack called her one of his girls. If she really was on the rebound from her ex-husband then one thing was certain - romance certainly didn't come into it. This was much more simple than that, much more raw than that. Mack's girls and Mack's women were always in the plural. Zoe had been one until he had apparently handed her on to Jerome.

Mack wasn't looking for a life-partner; he was auditioning women for the contest. There were many applicants; Mack had told Isobel that much. Some applied for a thrill or for a joke and Mack weeded them out quickly. Many didn't match up to his requirements.

She had come to learn what some of those requirements were and why he made them. The next contest would consist of five crews who each selected ten recruits for each season. Mack knew what the crews and their chiefs, men like Jerome, were looking for when they made their selection. If you didn't match up then you were a time-waster and Mack didn't allow his time to be wasted by anyone.

First, a prospect had to have 'the right look'. Second a prospect had to have 'the right attitude'. Third, a prospect had to be 'a team-player'. Last, a prospect had to be ready to 'do what it takes to win'.

Mack had been ready to tell her that much but he had not elaborated then or since. However, it had been enough. In the long hours between their chat sessions, especially since Zoe had gone back to college and left her with time hanging heavily, Isobel had been given enough material to work upon. Her fertile mind had constructed great fantasies with that trail of hints and clues so artfully laid for her by Mack. She knew what was happening but she didn't care. It made life seem fresh again, exciting again.

Of course Mack could do that. Just as easily as a half-blurted confession by Zoe had. Isobel closed her eyes for a moment and tried to center herself. Such thoughts - whether inspired by Mack or Zoe - formed a heady brew indeed. The calm didn't last long.

"On time as usual - thass what I like to see." The rich deep chocolate tones purred through her speakers and Isobel instantly felt a wave of excitement flow through her. This had become the key moment of her day, the moment all else was merely a preparation for. She had neglected other aspects of her life that needed her attention badly but somehow just the sound of his voice washed all of that away. It made her feel what she otherwise struggled to feel - relaxed and happy.

"Looking extra fine too. A man appreciates that. Even if a woman has real natural beauty a man still appreciates her making the effort."

A fresh rush of pleasure and confidence ran through her. Even if it was all BS it was a very lovely form of BS and it was just what she needed to hear at that moment. How long had she tried to rekindle the spark with her ex-husband and found that her efforts were not even noticed? That had been worse than if he had rejected them but then, as she realised more and more, her ex-husband was not a real man. Not a man like Mack and his associates.

"I like that top too - it suits you. That coloring and that form really works for you. Pleased to see you growing your hair out some too. A woman has hair like that then she needs to be drawing attention to it. Fine redhead like you she's like a red rag to a certain sort of bull."

She knew what he meant and again it was just the right note that she needed to hear. Being a 'ginger' had been the bane of her life at school. The fact that her pale skin adamantly refused to tan but merely burned and then flaked had made sections of her childhood miserable and horribly itchy. As the fashion for tanned skin had swept all before it she had been left out and as a teenager being different in look or attitude was often an uncomfortable thing to be.

One of her boyfriends had said that he loved redheads but that hadn't stopped him dumping her for a tanned platinum blonde. Her husband hadn't seemed too bothered - an attitude that had gradually spread to everything about their life together. To find men who prized her looks was a very pleasant surprise and also a very serious temptation. A temptation that, for the moment at least, she had no problem about surrendering to.

She felt her excitement still growing. She knew that soon he would ask her to strip and pose for him. She didn't know quite why she found that so enjoyable but it was undeniable that she did. Baring herself for him, body and soul, was a privilege rather than a chore. Mack had steadily, surprisingly, become a hugely important part of her life and she wanted to give him something back. Giving presents was always easier when you knew what the person wanted and she knew, or at least she hoped that she knew, just what Mack wanted. He wanted her.

"You get my package?"

She reached for it and pulled it into sight of the camera so Mack could watch her open it. She knew he really enjoyed that. At the same time she couldn't help noticing that both their minds had turned to gifts at the self-same time. Sometimes she did wonder if Mack could read her mind. Or perhaps he had just done this many times before and he was very good at what he did.

She had seen something very similar to the first items in her package before. White thongs with a stark message printed on their front in blatant black script. 'For Black Use Only' framed by the familiar 'Queen of Spades' symbol.

"Make sure to be wearing them from now on."

Isobel heard his voice and the calm assurance embodied in it. He didn't have to order her or insist on anything. His mere suggestion would be enough. She'd seen the same garments in Zoe's trunk and had to assume he'd made the same suggestion to her. Had her friend been wearing a pair of these every time she had seen her?

Probably not - but only for the same reason Isobel herself wouldn't always be wearing them. She had taken to wearing a skirt more and more for her chats with Mack and you didn't wear anything under your skirt when you were talking to your Black master. Just another of Mack's suggestions that it was now impossible to even contemplate reversing.

"Oh my..."

She heard Mack's pleased low laugh as her words died away. She had seen the main contents of her parcel now. A long box with a very familiar branding. She knew she had mentioned liking them a couple of nights before but she had never imagined being sent them.

She opened their box and they looked wonderful. Long suede boots with four-inch heels and those distinctive scarlet soles. Kate Botta design and they were unmistakably the real deal. You were lucky to get change from two thousand dollars buying those!

"Put them on girl."

She almost didn't want to. These were way too expensive and they would obviously have to go back. Damaging them somehow would be a very expensive mistake. However, the temptation really was too much. She kicked off her heels and pulled on the boots. Took a few exploratory steps and then checked herself out in her mirror.

"Made for you girl - just add the right skirt..." Mack endorsed his sentiment with a low whistle.

He was right of course. This skirt wasn't right but she had just the right idea of what would go with the boots. In the meantime, even with this skirt, they looked great and felt even better. Wearing something like this just made her feel so different, so alive, so sexy.

Which was probably one reason why they were so expensive. Isobel felt her pleasure deflating. What had her old journalism tutor talked about once - 'a state of pecuniary depletion.' He had been warning about purple prose but 'a state of pecuniary depletion' beautifully summed up her own situation and it was likely to be depleted even more in the next few months. Two grand a time boots were surely not on the agenda and were way too big a gift to accept and she told Mack so.

"You trying to hurt my feelings girl - besides these ain't available for any returns. They look way too good on you and I've told you before - I want my girls to look their best. Don't worry about the coin - we'll settle that down the road if needs be."

Sometimes, in fact usually, it felt best to just let Mack take charge. To accept that he was making the rules and setting the pace here. If it came with a sweetener like this it became easier of course.

"So - how did you get on this morning?"

***

That was the less attractive part of Mack taking charge and setting the pace. Getting out of the house had been no sacrifice and taking a free medical check-up wasn't something most people would turn their noses up at. However, his ulterior motive wasn't exactly a secret.

She had driven over to the nearest of the clinics as arranged. One just inside the Capital's sprawling suburbia rather than over the line into the notorious H-Town. Everything had been very clean, very professional and very competent. Right up to the moment when a fussy little man had appeared and taken charge of her.

She couldn't have identified his accent but thought it was probably some sort of Eastern European heavily overlaid with a rather upper-class and old-fashioned English. At first sight she had thought him 'fussy' and that word was pretty much reinforced in every aspect of him. He was also somewhat pompous but in a strangely endearing way. Almost despite herself Isobel found she took an instant liking to this Dr Nikola. She knew his reputation of course. Hadn't she looked him up at Zoe's request? The man Mack simply called 'the Doctor' was, despite all his humorous little mannerisms, a man you took seriously.

"Well young lady in today's world we must be careful. This does not mean we must be monks and nuns but we must accept our responsibilities towards ourselves and to others. Our medicine and science, whatever fools and dotards may pretend, can help us to do so. We need only to be informed and to take the necessary measures." It had all made perfect sense and Dr Nikola had explained things marvellously. She felt no qualms in metaphorically signing up to all of his suggestions and advice.

He had smiled a benign, avuncular, smile at that. "This was the required part of the visit. Your friend asked me to take care of you personally and I am glad to do so. I am always happy to assist friends of Mr Taylor."

Isobel didn't know who that might be but decided to let it ride. Getting a free consultation from someone like Dr Nikola was a gift horse no one should look in the mouth or question too far.

"Your friend also asked about another matter - you perhaps know my reputation in a certain field?" The little Doctor looked at her with a certain anxiety.

Isobel knew better than to duck this question. She strongly suspected that the little man was not short of pride in his reputation and achievements. "Of course Dr Nikola. I understand your reputation and am immensely grateful that you have taken the time to see me personally."

The little Doctor once again beamed his avuncular smile at her. "It is a great pleasure young lady but," and he raised a warning finger, "I understand the ways of some of Mr Taylor's friends. For me the consultation is completed. We need talk of no more unless you desire us to do so. I will simply report to our friend that any procedure could be potentially risky or counter-productive. It would be no lie though the chances of such in the masterly hands of Nikola would be almost infinitesimal as any perusal of my surgical record will show."

A flash of the light of battle had emerged in his generally placid eyes. He had seemed to puff up inside his surgical coat. Isobel realised that they were moving, for the little Doctor, on from mere duty to his chosen vocation. She herself chose the path of least resistance. "What do you suggest Doctor?"

From then the purest professionalism animated Nikola as he checked notes, made measurements and assessed her form with the practised eye of a great sculptor examining a block of marble. In ten minutes he took her through the practicalities of preparation, procedure and recovery. Once she was clothed again he took her photograph and used the image to show her some potential results on his computer. It was strangely fascinating but...

"You are not convinced Miss Denver." He still smiled as he said it. "Well this is quite alright. For me I want any subject to understand and to be sure. Perhaps you will go and consider but please to remember that I am no mere ordinary surgeon. My services are not cheap for the simple reason that I am the best. Do not, I beseech you, even consider venturing elsewhere. To make a mistake, to flaw your beauty, this would be unthinkable. Should you decide on this procedure you must come to Nikola. Together you and he will create perfection!"

He had risen and shaken her hand before ushering her out of his little, photograph-lined, office. Her mind was still in something of a turmoil even when she had arrived back home. Speaking of yourself in the third person was something of a red flag but then English was clearly not Dr Nikola's first language, however well he spoke it. His reputation was certainly undeniable. She knew that almost at first hand - hadn't Zoe been to this self-same Doctor?

***

"So - how did you get on this morning?"

"It all went OK though I get some of the tests back in a few days?" She had an idea that wasn't what he was really asking about.

"Thass fine - do like the man says and you won't go far wrong - you talk about anything else?" Mack wasn't going to let her off the hook but then she had always known that hadn't she?

"He took my measurements and we discussed... that procedure. I'm sure he is the best at what he does but that also makes him very expensive and I can't..."

"Nikola is the man. All my girls needing that service go to Nikola. No ifs and no buts because that man don't never fuck up." Mack didn't cut her off mid-sentance too often and she knew that when he did you were well-advised to listen. His serious tone of voice would have told her that anyway.

"It's all a little hypothetical anyway. I can't afford that sort of money and I don't think I need any help. What about you Sir? Do you think I do?" That put the ball back into Mack's court quite nicely.

Those expressive hands, still almost all she had ever seen of 'her man', showed their palms on her screen. "Ain't my decision to make? Do I think you look just fine as you is? Fuck yeah. That ain't the point though, is it? You ain't out there to please this old nigga - you out there to qualify for the contest. That means impressing the men out there and making the draft. What do you think they prefer? Sweet little breasts or big white titties?"

"Well I guess some of them..."

"You busy tomorrow girl?" His tone suggested that wasn't the question it appeared.

"No Sir."

"Good - you know my home town at all?"

Isobel felt her heart beat faster in her chest. That meant H-Town. "No sir."

"Best you pay attention then and set your GPS just like I'm sending you. Get there ready for 1 PM tomorrow - you got that?"

***

It was, strange to say, a bit of an anti-climax. Part of the notorious H-Town it might be, in theory, but this area was strictly commercial and out on the very south-western edge of the city. Her drive had consisted solely of the freeway and a short spell travelling through archetypal suburbia. Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned there.

Without incident she arrived at her destination. A single-story building with large sliding doors opening onto a concrete forecourt. The sound of slightly distorted music leaked out of those open doors along with the noise of metal on metal. Isobel parked up among the vehicles out on the forecourt. A few moments later a man emerged from inside wiping his hands on an oily rag.

With a professional smile he walked up to her as she got out of her vehicle.

"Can I help you ma'am - problem with the car?" It was a sensible suggestion since the sign on the door and the name printed on his light blue overalls alike said, 'Lime Motors.'

Isobel did her best to return his smile. "No - I was asked to meet a man called Mack. I've come to the right place?"

The man's eyebrows twitched upwards and his smile broadened. "It's the right place for sure. Mack told us to expect someone. Can't say I had you figured for the gig. Guess it's our lucky day and some." He held out a hand in welcome. "I'm Lime - it's my name over the door."

Isobel shook the offered hand and tried not to notice just how much her hand was dwarfed in his. Lime was a big bear of a man - clearly over six foot and barrel-chested with powerfully muscular arms and legs. His deep brown eyes crinkled with pleasure as she told him her name.

"Mack is pretty much always late and you are a good five minutes early. Care for a coffee - we got a decent machine for the customers."

She didn't really want anything to drink but accepting the offer only seemed polite. He turned and led her into his building.

Inside there were more cars and more men. One working on an old sedan, another surrounded by an engine in it seemed a million pieces and two more examining the under-side of an SUV up on a lift. They weren't all as dark as Lime but they were all certainly African-American.

One of the latter saw Lime and came to greet him. "It's like we reckoned boss - intake manifold for sure. That with the discs and pads we seen earlier. Want me to check if they want us to go ahead?"

"Nah - leave it to me. I'm getting a coffee for our friend here while we waiting for Mack."

For the second time in very short order Isobel saw understanding and then pleasure move across a man's face.

"Alright!" The voice came from behind her where the mechanic was re-assembling a motor. No other words were spoken but Isobel didn't need to turn round to know that every eye and all of their attention was on her.

Lime gave a half-laugh and half-grunt. "C'mon now. There's still ten minutes to break-time. How about we try to get some work done today."

He led her into the back office but she knew they were all watching her all the way there.

"You'll have to excuse the guys. Mack has brought a lot of fine girls up here but we hadn't got you tabbed for one of them." He placed a steaming mug of coffee down on the deck in front of her. "If you'll excuse me I got that call to make."

She was left with her coffee and her thoughts. Lime's words could be interpreted in a thousand different ways and her mind was doing its best at frantically working through them when a new noise came from outside. Male voices greeting someone. She couldn't make out the details but understood who it had to be. She felt her throat go dry and her heart beat faster.

The door to the office opened and a man entered carrying a large bag. He was just over six feet tall and looked to be in his late-forties perhaps. He wore suit pants and an open-necked shirt. His skin-tone was very dark, almost as black as his neatly trimmed hair. He carefully set down his bag and then he turned his attention onto her.

It was like a switch had been flicked. A pair of deeply, richly, brown eyes found hers and he smiled a greeting. Creases in his blue-black skin framed his well-formed mouth. A dark eyebrow twitched upwards. There was no single thing about him that was remarkable but behind all of them there was a power that was undeniable. A power that she felt the moment his eyes met hers - before she even heard that very familiar voice.

"Well now Isobel - seems you made quite the impression out there. I figured that you might." There was amusement in his words but there was also pleasure or even pride and they were beautifully judged. She had been leaning towards a less favorable interpretation of Lime's comments but now she felt rather better about them.

"Dre and Julian are putting up a couple of lights for us. Nothing too foolish but they will suit better than them workshop fluorescents." Mack opened his bag and pulled out a small leather case. " He tapped it with a finger. "Digital but it gives a better result than the camera on any phone I've seen. Now - you done a shoot before?"

"We're here for a photo shoot?" She didn't know whether to feel relieved or not.

"We need some decent pictures. Ones that everyone knows ain't been faked or edited. I also needed to get a look at you in person. Technology is clever as fuck nowadays and sometimes you think you've hit the jackpot but find out someone's trying to play you. The finer the supposed prospect is the more likely all ain't what it seems. So today has started out real well." He nodded at her significantly. "So you ain't done no shoots before?"

"No," she laughed. Even the idea seemed ridiculous to her.

"Well that's everyone else's loss. You got a look to you and there ain't no doubt about that. Anyway the process ain't hard. You just do what I ask you to do - keeps things simple in this just like most everything else." Mack smiled but she knew it wasn't a joke. "In the bag there we got four outfits. I'll make sure everything's right out there and once you ready in the first then join us and we'll get started."

"Outfits?" It sounded foolish even as she said it.

"Well now you look fine in the one you wearing but the men out there gonna want to see a little more skin you know." He saw her expression change. "There ain't no shame in being shy but it ain't no use to me. Lime and his mechanics are all good men - so every now and then I supply them with some entertainment. Something to add a little flavor to their bag lunches. You gonna give it a go for me?"

It somehow seemed a lot harder doing this in person compared to even being naked

or 'putting on a show' for Mack online. However, she knew that if she was to be a serious prospect then this was very small beer indeed. It was in fact rather a gentle test of her willingness to participate. If she wasn't up for this then what the heck was she doing here at all.

"Which outfit should I try first?"

"Got 'em all marked for you. Gimme a smile girl 'cos I got a suspicion once you get going you gonna enjoy this." He gave her his own lazy confident smile and then he was gone closing the office door behind him.

So at least she got to change in privacy - or did she? She took a quick look around the room. The glass in the door was frosted and there were no cameras. That made her feel a little better. It was a little ridiculous perhaps given how many times she'd stripped on camera for Mack but there it was.

She checked out the four parcels within Mack's bad. One was labelled 'Outfit One' and she opened it. Inside was a small outfit in tan leather effect and a pair of big silver hoop ear-rings. On top was a note - 'Ask Joe how he likes this?'

So who was Joe? Presumably one of the mechanics but that question had to wait. First she had to get into the first costume. The hoops were simple enough and she again felt a little rush of anticipation as she put them in. Just as usual except, of course, that this would not be usual. She was no longer in the familiar secure surroundings of the house and this time, for the first time, she would be performing for a live audience. She took off her skirt and replaced it with a pair of fringed tan shorts. She had to wiggle a little to pull them all the way up. They were very tight - really the definition of booty shorts. Then it was off with her jacket and blouse. Replacing it was a fringed tan top that matched the shorts. It was sleeveless and had a plunging top while it only reached to just above her navel. The outfit wasn't indecent at all but it certainly fulfilled the mandate of exposing a lot of skin. Her arms, her legs, her belly, her neck and a plunge into her cleavage. She missed the full-length mirror back at the house but she guessed the men would approve.

Emerging from the door she wasn't left in much doubt about that. Whoops and whistles greeted her as she walked across to the men where they had taken seats on her side of a long work-bench. It wasn't something that she was used to and it took all of her nerve to keep herself from running back into the office. Somehow she got across to in front of the men where Mack was waiting with his camera.

"Strike me a pose Isobel."

She did her best. The outfit was sort of sexy Pocahontas so she tried the closest she could get to a 'warrior woman' pose.

"Thass good," purred Mack and she heard the click of his camera shutter as he moved to capture her from various angles. "Just move your face so you keep looking into the lens. You got fine eyes there girl."

"She got fine pretty much everything!" That came from a brawny man in his mid-forties who was running to fat a little. His head was shaved but Isobel could see from the shine there that he had just accelerated the inevitable.

The man next to him was much younger, perhaps Zoe's age, and looked like an apprentice or trainee. He wasn't saying anything but the way he was looking at her was quite eloquent enough.

Lime was next and after him was a man in his late thirties or early forties. Tattoos crept out from under his over-alls at seemingly every opportunity and he wore a cap well back on tightly-cropped head. He watched her with an amused expression and he had been the one whistling loudest as she came into the room.

Last was the man on the far right end of the bunch. He was rather older, grey hair fringing his head and his mouth. He was reading some paper-work and munching on a sandwich. Bar the occasional glance in her direction he didn't seem too bothered by what was going on. Well, Isabel told herself, you couldn't please everyone all the time and she surely had the attention of all of the others.

Mack talked her through the shoot in a couple more poses. She had been wise to take his advice and to just do what he suggested. It was easy and quite exciting knowing that the men were all, or nearly all, watching her so intently. It could have been intimidating but the atmosphere wasn't like that at all. Mack's presence was reassuring and the men were enjoying watching her. She'd always liked getting dressed up to go out and who didn't enjoy turning a head now and then? Well, now she felt that rather exhibitionist part of her nature maturing and growing with every click of Mack's camera.

Finally Mack nodded his approval When she turned to go back to the office, however, he stopped her.

"You forget something?"

She looked at him for a moment, unable to understand what he meant, but then it came back to her. The note!

She turned back to the men. "Who is Joe?"

"That would be me." It was the man with the tattoos. Well, to be fair, the man with the greatest number of really obvious tattoos. Darker patterns over the deep-brown coloured skin of his neck and hands.

Isobel remembered the note. "How do you like this outfit Joe?"

He smiled - a smile that showed a couple of gleaming gold crowns. "Come over here and I'll tell you."

She thought she knew Mack and had taken a liking to Lime but she didn't know this Joe at all. He had that sort of a look that wannabe rappers adopted to scare middle-American whitebread types except that Joe didn't look like any sort of a wannabe. He looked the real deal.

Isobel wanted to glance at Mack for reassurance but she knew that she shouldn't. Joe was watching her with that sly amused look of his and she was sure that Mack would be watching her too. So she didn't look at him. Instead she put her head back and marched resolutely over to Joe stopping just a foot in front of him.

"So do you like my outfit Joe?"

His smile broadened a little making him look even more like a hungry fox approaching a promising hen-house. He raised a finger and made a slow circuit with it in the air.

She understand and began to do a little twirl for him but, whatever her inclination to do so, she made sure it wasn't rushed. This had to be slow so that he could enjoy every angle of her. She turned slowly until he was behind her.

"Just stop there and move back say six inches. That's the way. Now lean forward a little."

She followed his instructions without hesitation. Not really considering until it was too late that she was left standing there sticking her butt out almost into his face where he sat.

"Now bend them knees and roll them hips a little baby. Show me what you got."

She did her best. She wanted to please him and not only because that would also please Mack. She could still hear the click of his camera's shutter as it recorded her. She could imagine what those pictures would look like. The look of pleasure and lust on Joe's face and on her own - well what expression would be on her own? Embarrassment, shame, perhaps even fear? If so then it would be proof that the camera could lie after all. In fact she felt only a steady determination, a solid concentration on performing for these men. The mechanics, Lime and most of all for Mack.

"She pass muster Joe?" That was Lime's voice.

"Fuck yeah - she is real fine. Thank you baby."

Isobel straightened up and only now felt a certain lack of confidence. One glance back at Joe put that right. His enjoyment of her outfit and her little dance for him was very evident. She felt a little surge of pleasure and pride herself.

Back to the office and she clicked her tongue as she opened the second parcel. This was something of a cliché but she quickly put it on none the less. Even pulling the totally redundant garter up onto her right thigh. The outfit was black and white, a thoroughly stereotypical French maid's costume. She was only relieved it didn't come with a big feather duster. She glanced at the relevant note and then headed out.

Joe and the fat guy whistled loudly. Lime had a smile like he had just won the lottery. The young man's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. Isobel was well aware of why. The costume wasn't exactly modest viewed from the front but its real punch came from the back where the skirt was short enough to show a lot more than it hid.

Mack took charge and got the images he wanted. Mostly those seemed to consist of her bending forward to various extents. Her viewers didn't exactly disapprove to judge by their reaction. Finally Mack signalled to her.

She turned to them and asked, "Who is Dre?"

The tubby man with the shaved head beamed a delighted smile that gave her the answer to her question.

"Can you think of anything I can do for you Dre?" She leaned forward this time and saw his eyes disappear down her cleavage. Reluctantly they finally moved back to her face.

"Oh I can think of a lot of things you could do for me baby?" He winked and his friends laughed as Isobel headed back for her next change.

None of the packages had been large but this one was the smallest of them all. She opened it and knew that this time even her thong would have to go.

Outfit number three basically consisted of a head-band and three tiny pieces of cloth in leopard-skin pattern with tapes and a certain addition attached.

She got naked and then put the alleged outfit on and used the tapes to keep everything in place. That leopard-skin material was very clingy and very thin. In certain light and from certain angles it might even seem see-through. As it was there was so little material that it barely covered her nipples and her most private parts. Wearing this the men certainly couldn't complain that they weren't seeing any skin! She felt a real satisfaction that she had kept her training up. Any slacking would have been seriously shown up in a get-up like this!

The outfit had a couple of cute little features too. The band on her head held two distinctly feline ears. From the piece of material gallantly failing to cover her booty there hung a leopard-skin tail. These ridiculous additions almost defused quite how sexy the outfit was. Almost - but not quite!

She knew what to expect as she stepped back out of the office. If they had liked the previous outfits then they would love this one. Their calls and whistles proved her right and she smiled and gave them a little pose to acknowledge them. Through the photos with Mack and then on to ask her question - though she was almost sure of the answer.

"Who is Julian?"

The youngest man nervously raised his hand. He looked like a schoolboy hesitantly offering an answer.

"How old are you Julian?" She ignore the sly smiles of the other men as she locked her eyes onto the young man's.

"I'm eighteen."

"Well in that case." She did a little shimmy for him and then turned so that she could gently move her rear-end out over his lap. The young man was sitting rigid as a board with his hands gripping his chair like grim death. He was enjoying it though. She could tell that. She felt her tail brush against his chest and then skipped away from him.

"Bet you'd like to take that pussy home J!" It was Lime that cracked the obvious joke but the other men still laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. Even Julian smiled but that didn't stop his eyes following her all the way back to the office.

One last package. What would this be - a postage stamp? To her relief she found that it was a dress. A rather nice black evening number. The material was black and while it was light it certainly was not cheap. She disposed of the cat outfit and put the dress straight on.

It felt wonderful and Isobel knew that it had to look good. She regretted not having her full-length mirror but something told her Mack's taste in such things was to be relied upon. He knew what would fit his girls and he knew what would suit them too.

The dress did have one thing in common with the other outfits. It showed plenty of skin since the cut left her shoulders and upper back exposed. Slashes up to her hip exposed her legs while long pieces of dark material hung down at front and back. A little daring perhaps but positively demure after the last outfit.

No whistles this time - but appreciative murmurs in their place. The outfit might be rather more subtle but she still felt all of their eyes following her as she posed for Mack's camera. She followed his instructions and felt like a million dollars all the way through. You couldn't help feeling that way in this dress. All too soon the shoot was done.

No need to ask a question this time. There was only one mechanic left and he was watching her with a rather knowing look on his face. She wasn't sure when the old man had abandoned his paper-work but she knew that she had all of his attention now.

"What you got for me baby?"

This man wasn't an embarrassed youngster like Julian. He was a man of experience and a man that obviously knew what he liked. Perhaps that was why she said, "What would you like?"

The tip of his tongue emerged from his mouth and the wrinkles deepened at the corners of his eyes. He smiled at her conspiratorially. "Maybe a little dance and then some of what Julian got."

He was the oldest of the mechanics but there was still plenty of fire in the grate and that was for sure. She could see that in his eyes, in that confident smile. She had been totally in control with Julian. That would not be the case with this man. Isobel felt a little thrill of anticipation at the idea.

She began to move for him, enjoying watching his eyes as they drank her in. She moved with more intensity and the material of her dress moved between her legs with each motion.

"You are one class piece of ass," said the man. "Now bring yourself on closer - just like with my young friend there."

Isobel couldn't help shooting a glance over at Mack who had been busily shooting with his camera. Her ex-husband or any of her ex-boyfriends would have stepped in at this point. Mack just lowered his camera for a moment and smiled at her. Different rules applied with men like these.

She turned her back on the older mechanic and began to really put herself into her dance. Swinging her hips and shaking her ass, making those long drape-like pieces of her dress really move. She remembered what he had said and began to move herself back and closer to him just as she had with Julian.

She felt her dress move and something told her just what had happened. The man had caught the swinging material of her dress at the back and was now holding it in his hand, lifting it up. She might as well be naked and as the thought went though her head she just kept dancing for him, kept moving her butt in the full knowledge that he was seeing everything,

"Hey Mack - where the fuck did you find this one?"

She heard the pleasure in his voice. He might be a man of experience but she knew that she had his full attention, she knew that he wanted her. That just encouraged her to move back right over him, to lower herself closer and closer to him. His hands moved to her hips and eased her down the little that it took for there to be contact.

She gave a little laugh of the purest delight - she couldn't help herself. The man had appeared self-confident but a little world-weary and now she knew she had helped with half of that. She was feeling a bulge in his jeans under her bared booty. A hard and really surprisingly large bulge.

If it had been Joe or Dre then she might not have felt so good about the situation. If it had been Julian he might have cum in his pants. With this man she just kept wiggling her ass right onto that hard bulge in his pants. His hands still held her arms but they didn't grip her tight. She could get up any time that she wanted to. She knew that even as she kept working her booty on his body.

"How's that going for you Sly?" Mack's voice was heavily weighted with amusement.

"She is fucking fly man - I tell you this one could get me out of retirement!" Sly laughed and then his hands held her tighter and pushed her up and off him.

Isobel looked towards Mack. There were no more packages left in the office. Mack just smiled and pointed to the owner of the repair shop.

Lime reached behind him for a box and held it up for her to take. She did so and looked inside. It was her final outfit of the day - another black dress but a complete contrast with the one she was still wearing. Instead of flowing lines of material this was vinyl and it looked very small.

"Need to get these men back to work so maybe you can just change here." Lime wasn't smiling but the other men all were. She knew that she could head back into the office but she also knew they were all watching her to see just what she would do. Mack was watching too and she remembered his comment about having no use for shy girls. That was enough to make up her mind for her.

"You'll have to give me a little help with these." She pointed at her fastenings.

Having got into the dress on her own there was little doubt that she could get out of it the same way. However, that didn't seem to occur to Lime as he stood up and undid her dress for her.

Isobel had finished removing her dress by the time that Lime had resumed his seat. She tried not to make too big a deal of it or take longer over it than necessary but it really made very little difference. Her previous outfits hadn't exactly been modest. Were they seeing much they hadn't seen already? Despite such prevarications she was well aware that she had all of their attention riveted onto her and she heard the clicks of Mack's camera as he captured the scene. She picked up the new vinyl dress and began to pull it up onto her arms. The material certainly stretched but there really wasn't much of it.

When she had pulled the dress over her head and began pulling it down that impression just grew stronger and stronger.

"I think you've made a mistake. This isn't going to fit." Frankly the 'dress' now seemed to be about an inch of black latex held in her hands and by straps on her shoulders.

"Don't look like no mistake to me." Lime's remark drew smiles from all his technicians but one.

The older man wasn't smiling. His eyes were fixed on her with the fierce intensity of hungry desire. "It'll fit." That wasn't a question or a suggestion - it was a statement of fact, delivered in a way to end any doubt about the matter. He wanted to see her in that dress and that meant that the latex dress would just have to fit.

She tried again. Inch by inch she managed to just about ease the dress down over her breasts. The straps slipped but that didn't matter. It was so tight that the dress wasn't going to drop off her any time soon. She paused to replace the straps and glanced down.

The latex was jet black and holding tight to her body, moulded perfectly around every curve. At its edges there was a sharp contrast with the paleness of her skin. At least the dress had no back which meant that she could breathe easily enough.

If her breasts had been an obstacle to wearing the dress then her butt was a rather larger one. The material was already stretched by the time that it even reached the lower curves of her body and it then had to be eased forward inch by inch. However, the material did continue to stretch little by little until, after some gyrations and a couple of involuntary gasps, it finally stretched over her butt.

Isobel moved a little and the dress kept its position. She readjusted the straps and looked down. She hadn't been mistaken earlier. The dress perfectly moulded her body and showed every detail. Never mind the twin prominent bulges of her nipples, grown hard against the constricting material, she was also showing a clear and undeniable camel toe.

She regretted that she had left her thong in the office but only for the moment it took to remember the message on that thong.

'For Black Use Only.'

Maybe it was just as well she hadn't been wearing it when she stripped for them. Anyway she was here - effectively naked in a dress apparently made more to reveal than to conceal. She glanced back up at the men. Their eyes were greedily eating in the sight. If she thought she had captured their attention before then that was nothing compared to now. Just at this moment it seemed that there was nothing more important in the whole world to them.

"What do you think of it? Do I look OK?" It was the purest devilment on her part of course. She knew just what they thought about it. Every aspect of them told her. She really didn't need the rather obvious bulge in Julian's pants to tell her how he felt. She shimmied to one side a little and relished the fact that four pairs of eyes followed her with fierce intensity. They were enraptured by the sight of her and that gave her a sense of being, perhaps a sense of power, unlike anything she had felt before.

Mack had finished his photographs and was now seated next to the older man. They were talking together but in low tones so as not to disturb the others. These two weren't enthralled like their friends but they were still watching her. Mack had a look of satisfaction that she found particularly pleasing. The older man had the same little smile that she had noticed when she had first arrived. It was a smile of enjoyment but was there also cunning there or perhaps a sort of experienced cynicism? Anyway he wasn't as obvious as his friends but his eyes still glittered as they followed her movements. He wanted her just as much as them and she knew that for sure. She had felt the proof when she had sat in his lap earlier.

Mack had put his camera down but she still made a point of assuming some poses for the men. Of course their favorite was her bending forward so that the latex dress would ride up a little over the rich curve of her booty. Their little gasps and laughs of pleasure were enough to make her keep doing that. Flaunting her beauty before them like a red rag before Black bulls. Exercising a privilege ensured by Mack's presence. The men were enjoying the show but understood that it was nothing more than a show. She was one of Mack's girls and Mack wouldn't want it to go any further - at least not at this time.

How did she feel about that? She wasn't sure. Had the men made a move for her now then she knew she would have been terrified. Just as a few weeks ago she would have felt the same about a man like Mack making a move on her. Yet if Mack made a move now then she'd follow him home or to a seedy motel room or to the back seat of a car or to wherever he wanted to fuck her. She knew that with absolute certainty. Being around Mack had changed her perspective on some things. She knew that staying around him would change her feelings a lot more. Soon, perhaps a lot sooner that she yet cared to admit, she'd be just like the girls in the video clips she had seen. Ready to suck and fuck with any cock just so long as it was Black. Maybe to do a lot more.

"Damn just look at the little white 'ho - she's surely gettin' into it. Fuckin' love it when a cracka slut shows it like that."

"Fuckin' A man - fuckin' A."

That was Joe and his fat friend agreeing with him. She knew they would both know just how to deal with a little white slut like her. The notion sent waves of passion through her as she half-posed and half-danced for them. So she didn't want all of them but maybe Mack and a couple of the others? She couldn't help smiling at the thought and the realization. What was the point of trying to fool herself. They could all have her if Mack only chose to snap his fingers and tell her to fuck them all. They could have her and she would make it real good for each and every one of them.

At that moment Mack snapped his fingers. Isobel looked at him in startled surprise - could he really read her mind? He just smiled at her with a knowing look on his dark face.

Lime stood up from his chair and the others followed suit. It seemed the break was over. He took a step across to where Mack had now joined Isobel. "You got a winner there," he told Mack, "you need any help packing up?"

Mack demurred and started collecting the kit. Lime looked Isobel up and down, from top to toe, as if he was trying to imprint the look of her onto his memory. Then he held out a large Black hand. "Thanks babe. You don't know how tough it is to keep good technicians. An occasional treat keeps all the men sweet. Makes the boss happy too." He flashed her a brilliant smile and then was gone. The older man followed him.

The three mechanics who were still there all lined up to thank her. They were strangely formal in their words and she felt odd hearing them. The adrenaline rush of performance had passed. Soon enough she was back in the office and putting her regular clothes back on.

***

She waved response to a chorus of cheers as she left the auto repair shop. There was the tingle of blood in her cheeks which was frankly ridiculous given what she had got up to earlier.

Mack had got his kit and her outfits together and was waiting for her out front on the concrete. He was in conversation with the older man. She noticed the manner of that interaction and recognized it instantly. The relaxed demeanours and comfortable back-and-forth that you got when two people knew each other very well.

"Here she is," the man's cunning old eyes were on her again, amusement delineating the wrinkles by his eyes and mouth. "You never did introduce me Mack."

"Generally I've always found I could leave that to you. This sweet piece is Isobel and that worn out homie is Sly."

'Is that his given name or just what his friends call him?' thought Isobel. Either way it suited him down to the ground but that didn't stop her taking his proffered hand.

Sly winked at her. "I ain't so worn out I can't spy when Mack here has someone a little special. Enjoyed your show very much." He paused and then asked Mack, "Talking of which what about the little blonde piece you had a month ago."

Mack was slightly dismissive in tone. "Nothing set in stone quite yet but pretty sure Jerome is taking her on."

Sly chuckled and even that normally friendly sound somehow matched his name. "Steady diet of chocolate for that one then. Jerome'll be making sure she has a full belly afore too long if I know anything." His eyes flickered back to Isobel for a moment. "What about this one - Jerome's got his eyes on her too I'll bet."

Mack let out a 'huh' and then let out a short, dry, laugh of his own. "He has made mention of her. Why? You serious about coming out of retirement?" Now he had his usual confident smile.

Sly's eyes were on her for real now. He arched an eyebrow and that cunning smile of his broadened a little. He took a step away from Mack and towards her. He raised his hand and gently caught a strand or two of her red hair between his long, dark, fingers. "Always been real partial to a redhead - fake or real don't matter much. But you know that Mack 'cos we singing from the same hymn sheet there. She got a sweet little body too." He released the strands of her hair and then his fingers traced their way down her back.

Isobel felt herself stiffen a little. She saw the old man's smile broaden a trace more. He'd felt the reaction alright but he was more interested in the fact that she hadn't moved away. That she still didn't move away when his long fingers cupped and squeezed her butt. She just kept looking up into those old, cunning, deep eyes.

It must have been seconds but it seemed a lot more before Sly laughed again, released his hold on her butt with a gentle slap from his hand.

"Thass the money-maker like you know and this one is nicely supplied. Good shape, good volume and good tone. Pretty much perfection back there." His voice was that of an appraiser deciding the value of a car.

"She has your seal of approval then?" Mack was still smiling, quite relaxed despite what had happened. It hadn't been a surprise to him and it was certainly not perceived as a challenge or threat. Isobel at that moment realised just how close and how old friends these two probably were.

"Shit yeah," Sly spat on the ground. "She's an A-Grade for sure. Only thing short is that she's bottom-heavy. Needs a little help up top and that ain't hard to arrange. One thing you can always be sure of is any Black man with a pulse loves a nice big pair of white titties. She had them then she'd be a Triple-A with a cherry on top. Shit but you know that already young 'un and I got business to do. See you around man."

Sly turned and headed back to the repair shop. Mack and Isobel watched until his lean figure disappeared through the big sliding doors.

"You sure got old Sly's attention - ain't seen him that enthusiastic in a long time." Mack laughed as he packed the outfits into the trunk of her car.

That reminded Isobel of something she had been wondering about. "What did he mean about coming out of retirement?"

That just seemed to amuse Mack more. "Well Sly is what you might call an OG. Had a name around here long before the contest. When it started he was a natural to head up a crew. Those first couple of years I was in his crew - until he stepped down and I took over."

Isobel knew enough to understand what 'heading up a crew' meant. What Jerome was now and what Mack had been. Both men with that natural authority and confidence that she found so attractive. Did they become that with the job or, more likely, did they take that role because everyone knew it was right for them.

So Sly had held that role too. That explained a thing or two. Despite his age there was something about Sly. The grey hair and wrinkled face didn't quite hide the strength behind them. Sly wasn't a weak old man - not by a long chalk. She'd seen and felt proof of that but she would have known anyway. His eyes had a power behind them that she'd really only experienced once before and that had been less than an hour before when Mack had locked his eyes onto hers.

"That's hard to believe." She hoped the hollowness of her words didn't leak through into their delivery. To judge by Mack's shrug of response she seemed to have got away with it.

What happened next drove such matters from her mind.

Mack closed the trunk of her car and paused to look at her. "I'll be available online two weeks from tonight."

They had been messaging daily. She had spent her days looking forward to it. She had been so excited at their meeting in person. Now she had to wait two weeks before they talked again. She put all of her thoughts and disappointment into a single anguished word.

"Why?" She tried to pull herself together. "What did I do wrong?"

His face was impassive but not cruel. "Nothing. In fact you've been doing really well. I've devoted a lot of time to you. Now we need to see whether you can take the initiative. I might be busy with other things but I'll be sending you some homework. We both need to be sure this is right for you."

He loaded the last of his equipment into his vehicle and then, almost before she had realized it, he was gone. She got in her own car and set off for the house.

'Fuck him - fuck all of them,' she thought as a sudden rush of anger coursed through her. 'Who the fuck do they think they are?'

It was a good question and an understandable reaction but not the mind-set for a safe drive home. She forced herself to slow down a little in all senses. At the next available stop she paused for a sandwich and a coffee. The white-out anger fizzled out into a degree of cool misery. However, she remembered his last sentence,

'We both need to be sure this is right for you.'

Two weeks seemed like an age from where she was now but it would pass.

***

A couple of days later Isobel found that two links had been left for her. One directed her to a photo gallery online. Labelled with her name it contained thirty images. Ranging from one in the auto shop's office to others with her wearing each of the outfits supplied for her photo-shoot. The maid outfit still looked ridiculous but otherwise she thought they looked OK. The last of the photos showed her with the mechanics. The slightly sinister face of Joe transformed by a broad smile as she danced for him. The contrast of her toned body with the bulk of Dre. The apprentice, whatever his name was, looking like he was close to a heart attack as she lap-danced for him. Then there was Sly. His face showed nothing more than cool appraisal as she did the same for him. Here the surprise was visible on her own face and she very clearly remembered why.

Then there were a couple of photographs of her undressing for them and a few more of her squeezing into that tight latex dress. Now that really did look good - showing off the fine curves of her body. She looked carefully at herself in the images. Mack and Sly's words came back to her as she did so. She looked good but she knew that she could look better and she wanted to look the best that she could for Mack and his friends. She wouldn't rush into anything - she would sleep on it.

Below the photos were a list of tags. One was 'Contest 38', another was 'prospects' and the last was 'Isobel'. She clicked on the latter but found it produced only the gallery she had already seen.

Now she turned her attention to the second link. It took her to another, much smaller, collection of images. It was simply tagged 'Contest 1'.

There were four images. Two men and a woman. She was a very pretty brunette of Isobel's own age. Judging by her dress and the furnishings behind her this photograph might have been taken in the late 1980s or perhaps the early 1990s at the latest. It had the slightly grainy quality of a pre-digital image, a stark border suggested it might even be a scanned-in Polaroid.

The woman was standing with one leg up on a chair's seat to show off her stockings and garter. Behind her was a young Black man, tall and muscular. His big hand was at her waist and his confident smile was visible over her shoulder. The woman obviously didn't mind - her own smile was as relaxed as it was beautiful. The second man was seated next to her with one hand holding a well-filled glass, bourbon to judge by the bottle on the table beside him. He was wearing a colourful shirt and a cigarette was held lazily in his other hand. On his face was a smile of the purest confidence and assurance.

The photograph had been taken a long time ago but Isobel still recognized him. She thought she would have done so even without that smile - a smile she recognized from two days earlier. This was Sly without a doubt and that made her look more carefully at the younger man. She wasn't quite sure with the lighting and all but it could easily have been Mack. The more she looked at it the more convinced she was that it was him.

The woman was naked in the second image. She had a tidy little body with relatively small breasts. Had fashions changed in that regard or was it down to the fact that Nikola and his techniques were about twenty years in the future? Mack wasn't in this picture but Sly surely was. His lean, hard, deep-brown body contrasting strongly with the woman's. He had the same smile and it wasn't hard to see why. His cock was very big and very hard and it was being sucked by the woman..

The third image was simpler. The woman on her hands and knees on a bed. Sly was fucking her from behind and the contrast of her feminine beauty with his tough masculinity was more evident than ever. He wasn't carrying an ounce of spare flesh, muscles and ribs were visible as he pushed up against the rounded curve of her butt. His hands were pushed up under her body and grasping her breasts. Isobel took all of that in with one glance but then her attention was focused on the woman's face.

This wasn't an actress or a pornstar. This was an ordinary woman. Isobel checked the other pictures and saw what she was looking for. The woman was wearing her rings. In those pre-internet days how did a housewife like her end up in that room being fucked by a man like Sly. No doubt by a man like Mack too.

She couldn't answer those questions but she did know one thing. At that moment the woman had no regrets, no second thoughts about her choice. Her face was an image of satisfied concentration, seeking to savour every moment of what was happening. The woman had a husband at home but Isobel knew instinctively that this was different. He couldn't make the woman feel like this - that was why she was here.

The last image was from somewhat later. The previous ones were probably, to judge by the furnishings, taken in a motel or a cheap hotel. This one was taken in someone's home. That wallpaper had never been seen on the walls of a motel and a set of draws in the background was covered with an assortment of household items. An old-style cathode-ray TV took pride of place. No-one was watching it - there were better things to do. Sly was lying on a bed in the foreground, the upper half of his brown body shown. His hand was clamped on the woman's butt as she rode him, her brown hair cascading over her face. It wasn't just the sexual position that was different. Her body was different too. Her previously flat belly was bulging out and her breasts were larger, round and firm and full of milk.

So it was all true - all that Mack had told her. These men were not playing games. Isobel looked again into the face of the woman in the pictures. Meeting with them had changed her life and of that there was no doubt. Had she regretted it? Had her husband known about it before his wife's body swelled with her Black lover's baby? At that moment it didn't look like the woman ever wanted to be anywhere else but riding Sly's Big Black Cock. Had it been worth it? Would it be worth the risk just to find out?

There were no more pictures and no video. In those days it probably would have meant using one of those big camcorders. However, there was a link to 'Home'.

She pressed it and saw link upon link, folder upon folder, all arranged by contest number. She found and clicked the latest of them, Contest 38. Within there were pictures and names. A quick count showed thirty per page and there were apparently four pages. On the fourth page, the latest additions to it, were her own first name and picture. How many crews had Mack said there were and how many prospects did they recruit for each contest? Certainly those numbers were well short of the 100-plus prospects listed here. Mack clearly hadn't lied about just how in demand places in the contest were.

Isobel flicked back to the third page and ran her eyes along the faces shown. The women were all white, all in their twenties or thirties and all attractive in their various ways. Those high standards that Mack had talked about. You had to pass a certain bar to even be listed here.

Which she, Isobel Denver, was. She felt a little surge of excitement and pleasure at that. It might have been somewhat shallow and superficial but it still felt good, very good.

Back to page two and more images, each a woman hoping to become a woman of one of the crews. Knowing what that meant and what that might mean. She kept scanning back until she reached the bottom of the first page and the picture that she knew she had been looking for.

Zoe. She looked young, excited and seriously beautiful in that head-and-shoulders image. There was a button below her image and Isobel pressed it.

There were two sets of images and three videos. Isobel opened the first expecting it to match her own. However, Zoe was simply shown before a whitewashed wall. There was no suggestion of exotic outfits or of an audience except the person taking the pictures. She was in her usual style of dress - at least initially. The images followed the process of her divesting herself of that clothing until she stood before the wall naked.

Isobel might have felt ashamed to be looking at those pictures except for the expression on Zoe's face. There was no trace or fear there and the only nervousness was the excited sort. There was no doubt that she was a willing participant, indeed an eager one.

Isobel scrolled down the screen and noticed, for the first time, that there were postings below the final picture. Each was identified only by a letter and a number.

'V3 - Real cute. Got my approval.'

'S2 - Love me a little blonde ho. Always look good riding my Big Black Cock.'

'M6 - Give that girl a fine pair of titties and she'd be top grade.'

'H4 - Take that little bitch round some places I know and a man could retire on the proceeds.'

'B4 - Her tits ain't bad. Got a nice shape to them. I kinda prefer natural.'

'H1- Nothing better than big natural titties but I'll settle for big fake ones. Besides I like a girl to make an effort.'

'S6 - Yeah - she's in for sure if she'll show some commitment.'

'V5 - Best you be reading this little bitch. You want to ride well you know what we want."

The second set of images were superficially similar and had been posted only a week or so ago. However there was a very real difference and once you noticed that difference it was blatantly obvious. Zoe herself had changed. Her breasts were larger and fuller though they did not look obviously fake. Without the earlier images you might never have known. Again there were comments after the last image but they were different this time.

'H1 - Now that little ho looks worth owning. The Dr knows his business.' Next to the comment was a tick symbol.

'M3 - Thought she was fine before but you all was right. Pair of bolt-ons suit her real good.' The tick symbol followed it.

'S1 - Blonde hair, big tits, little feet - this one needs breeding for sure.' Then the tick again.

'H1 - Gonna compete for her? Don't worry about that 'cos when we win we'll make sure to get the job done!'

'B2 - Watch out Blondie looks like us niggas all planning on knocking you the fuck up!' The tick symbol.

'B1 - Bitch'll look good with a full belly. Maybe we need to stake a claim.' The tick symbol.

Those were just the first of many, many, more. A stream of comments vividly and obscenely describing just what they all wanted to do with Zoe. Each accompanied by the tick symbol until a final message appeared.

'Mc - That's the majority. Zoe is an approved prospect subject to draft. What you say J you still want her as your No 1?'

'H1 - Yeah - she'll put points on the board and we'll put a baby in her belly. Thass guaranteed. Heights draft her No 1.'

'Mc - Then that's in the book. Zoe belongs to the Heights crew.'

Isobel looked at the words on her screen. It didn't tell her anything that she hadn't already guessed but it was something else to see it all spelled out like that. Somehow she had assumed it would all turn out be a fake or a scam or a joke or something. Now her own experiences suggested that wasn't true. The words she was reading carried a lot of weight once you understood and accepted that fact.

Isobel cast a quick eye over the rest of Zoe's page. Alongside the images were three videos. She recognised one immediately. The one at the gym when Jerome had collared Zoe. Jerome was the leader of the Heights - or you might call him 'H1'. At least you could say that Jerome and his friends didn't hide their plans for a woman. Zoe had to have seen this and yet she still...

Isobel couldn't help wondering how she would react in the same circumstances. The thought was barely in her mind before a realization hit her. She went back to her own page on the site and to that photo gallery. This time she went to the final image and scrolled down.

Even as she went to her page she still told herself that there would be no comments, that she would never have attracted the sort of attention that her younger friend had. That just didn't happen to women like Isobel Denver.

Well, on that point she was wrong. There were indeed comments, lots of comments. There were those tick symbols too.

Isobel looked away from the screen. Did she really want to do this? Everything sensible told her to put a stop to this now. This was no game but it was also no trap - those who went beyond a certain point knew just what they were getting into.

Isobel gently bit her lower lip with her even, white, teeth. She took a deep breath and then she began to read the comments.