"Oh! Oh! You are a naughty girl! I've been quite distracted by your silly feminist notions and now we've gone and got ourselves lost."
Feminist notions indeed! If she only knew just how deeply the concept of a nice strong father figure resonated in my psyche (not to mention my spanking fetish). I rummaged in my basket for a street-map but realized that I must have left it behind on the ship. Oh well. It simply added a new angle to sightseeing. The rude, rough underbelly of a Caribbean isle. I thought of big black men with cocks like Arab stallions and wondered whether there was somewhere we could go to watch a show. After all, I had purchased my rock and there was still a little time before we had to meet Harry for afternoon tea. My nipples rubbed pleasurably against the flimsy cotton of my summer dress. I wasn't wearing any underwear, for twin reasons of heat and horn, and I thought of a dark skinned native unbuttoning my frock and exposing my tender pale flesh to the scorching rays of the midday sun.
"Mmmm…"
"Taxi! Come along, Jay. We'll take this cab to The Lobster Pot."
A rather rickety looking taxi shuddered to a halt at the Black Widow's frantic wave. I remembered Harry's tales of white-knuckle cab rides with deaf, blind and merely psychotic drivers, and stuck out my chin in determination. I don't let just anyone boss me around. Besides, I'd made up my mind to score before tea. Male or female, the gender didn't matter, but they had to be big and black. Fortunately, I seemed to be in the right place for both. Mrs. Goldfinkel's plump pink-clad bottom disappeared into the back seat of the cab and I blew her a kiss.
"Don't worry, Gigi. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I just want to see the other side of this tropical paradise. Do my own little rough guide."
"Harry will be very cross!"
I doubt that very much, Mrs. G.
The taxi coughed twice and rattled off in a dense cloud of blue smoke. I hoped the Black Widow would survive the ride. It really did seem safer to walk. One hour to catch me something dark and tasty. Suddenly desperately horny, I strode off down the street, doing my best to look as if I knew exactly where I was heading. The docks, apparently, going by the general ambiance and a couple of cranes against the skyline.
"Hi there, honey!"
A couple of prostitutes lounged on the peeling front steps of a once brightly painted but now shabby house. One of them had a gold front tooth. Their skin shone dully in the dazzling sunshine. I smiled and waved gaily in response. Once upon a time, I was a call girl known as Fleur Delice, specializing in making old men happy. I admired the girls' large breasts, clearly defined through their tight cropped tops. I didn't want to have to pay so I passed on, blowing them a little kiss.
Tattoo parlors, cheap cafes, fish filleting and diesel sales. I began to be aware of eyes following my progress. There were sailors everywhere. Ooh, I say! It looked like my ship had come in. He was big and he was black and he wore a crisp white uniform. I gazed up, up, up at his smiling face.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Would you happen to be able to direct me to an establishment called The Watering Hole? I'm new to this town and my friends have gone on ahead."
"Why, certainly, young man. In fact, I was just going there myself. The rum punch is quite outstanding."
I bluffed like mad, quickly slipping one arm through the sailor's and instinctively setting off in the general direction of a faint but throbbing beat. My escort gave me a rather perturbed look but I pressed on regardless. The poor boy was probably shy. Maybe it was his first time. I scanned his features for signs of a date stamp. Twenty, perhaps? Ooh, a toy boy. I love older men but the odd piece of fresh young flesh makes an interesting change. They have nothing to say but their hormones are rampant.
"What's your name, dear? I'm Jay."
The young man cleared his throat. He really was nervous.
"Um, Leroy, ma'am. Leroy Biggin."
I couldn't help myself. This was too much!
"Biggin, did you say? Why, Mr. Biggin, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. You can call me Miss Bazookas."
The chap didn't skip a beat, the humor lost on him.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, if you don't mind my asking such a delicate question, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, how much will I need to pay you for your services?"
Oh dear. It would appear I had found a big black Biggin with a wallet full of greenbacks. I smiled and patted his arm.
"That's all right, big boy, I'm on special today. Just buy me a drink and satisfy my curiosity."
The booming reggae music emanated from The Watering Hole, a sleazy looking establishment which was obviously more than just a bar. Various posters displayed on the frontage showed dark skinned girls in assorted stages of undress. A strip joint. Perfect, only perfect. Maybe Big Boy would buy me a lap dance. We walked in, my rather courteous escort selecting a table in a darkish corner near the bar. The place was packed and fiendishly hot, not unlike the black hole of Calcutta. I took off my hat and unbuttoned my dress another notch, making Biggin gulp. I wondered if I had a virgin on my hands. Surely not. Scores of white uniformed sailors of all ages, sizes and shades were standing around, drinking bottled beer and staring at the dancer on the stage. I raised my gaze above the smoky throng and focused on the naked girl.
"Good heavens! What's she covered in?"
Biggin extricated a pair of spectacles from his shirt pocket. A short-sighted virgin Biggin. He polished them carefully, placed them on his nose and squinted at the stripper.
"That would appear to be honey, Mizz Bazookas."
"Ooh, I say…"
The girl was tall, very dark skinned and completely naked. Her ebony skin was thickly coated with the sticky golden mess and she writhed upon a plastic covered couch, ecstatically massaging her heavy breasts. Her long, lean legs were parted wide, exposing her pussy to the cheering throng. Then I realized that there was a man's head between her legs. His face dipped down into her cunt and she grasped her ankles with purple-taloned hands and spread her thighs wide for the sailor's hungry mouth.
"I like it."
My own naked pussy had begun to throb and, pushing my skirt up, I placed Biggin's dark hand on my ivory thigh. A topless girl with a mass of braided hair thrust a plastic ice cream tub under our noses. She bore a remarkable resemblance to the girl on stage or maybe the heat of the room had simply gone to my head. The tub was filled with money.
"All yo' can eat! Five bucks!"
I thought of sucking honey from a hot black cherry. Then again, it seemed I might have another cherry at hand to pop. I smiled coyly at Big Boy and he placed a greenback in the tub. Seductively, I stroked the inside of his thigh as the music throbbed and the stripper spread 'em for the gang. He seemed to have a baseball bat in the pocket of his pants.
"Is this a rough area, Mr. Biggin? You seem to be carrying protection."
I swear Biggin blushed.
"I can't get protection to fit, Mizz Bazookas. That's my, um, erm…"
The topless waitress began to laugh and I withdrew my hand and crossed my legs. It rather looked as if I'd bitten off more than I could chew…
I rose for breath and swallowed a good dollop of honey. Delicious. And so was the honey. And the honey. I remembered her name now – Elvira. I took another lick then staggered to my feet to make room for the next licker.
The girl with the money tub kindly assisted me back to the bar and the bottle of rum. I patted her bottom with a sticky hand and she giggled.
"Thank you, my dear. Just swivel me round a little so I can maintain observation on the delectable Elvira."
She giggled again.
"She no Elvira – I Elvira! You no remem'er? Oh Mistuh Neptoon! Yo' no remem'er?"