Hanson Allen put his feet up on the railing of the porch and sipped the iced tea his mama had just handed him. He was wondering whether or not he should bother borrowing his dad's pickup to drive to Elsie Shelton's that night. What he really wanted to do was see Billie-Ann Wheeler, but almost a week had passed since he'd given her the books at Basset's Pond and there'd been no sign of her either at the pond or walking the dusty roads. It was a pretty sure bet she'd decided not to go with him to Elsie's.
But ever since he'd grabbed her wet, clinging body in the wood pond and then kissed and hugged and rubbed her until his balls turned themselves inside out, Hanson had been bothered by cold sweats, sometimes in the hottest part of the day. That very morning, he'd had one hell of a dream and woke to find his cock bubbling thick semen all over the sheets.
He took another mouthful of the tea and let the details of the dream sift through his head. He'd run over them a dozen times already but couldn't resist doing it just one more time. Dreams were nice like that and Billie always acted differently in his sleeping mind than she had at the pond. In the dream she'd pulled off his skimpy mesh shorts after the two of them were on the bank together. Then while Hanson stretched back against the mossy ground, she'd steadied his huge cock and sucked it noisily into her mouth. But the dream had gotten even better. When he'd been close to coming Billie'd cupped her soft hands under his balls and swathed the underside of his penis with the pointed tip of her tongue, whimpering for him to fill her mouth until finally she took his glans to the back of her throat, and greedily gulped the scalding, spurting seed.
Hanson finished the tea with a groan and put the glass down. The heat waves were rising from the gravel road in front of the house while the trees roared with the intertwining rhythms of a million insects. Hanson gave a humorless laugh. Hell, he'd scared the shit out of that poor little white girl at Basset's Pond. That was it all right… she was just too damned white. The past few days he'd been kicking himself for being so crazy in the first place. Yeah, she was tan as a berry all right, but whiter than white inside.
"I must've been asking for trouble," he said aloud in the still air of the porch. "But goddamn it, she was a fine little piece of tail."
Hanson tightened his jaw until the muscles twitched at his temples while he thought of Billie's lovely body. The long, straight, flowing brown hair. The way it tumbled over her shoulders like strands of silk.
And those pretty, thin shoulders and that narrow, sweet-smelling back.
He laughed again, realizing that he'd never really smelled it. It would smell good, though, Hanson was sure. There was that orange T-shirt, too, that made her titties look so small and soft… tipped delicately with tiny buttons of nipple flesh. Pink nipple flesh.
Angrily, he picked up the empty glass and sucked the last ice cube into his mouth. "That's why I'm all fucked up right now!" he muttered. "I can't get that little demon off my mind." And Hanson was off again, thinking about when Billie'd slipped into the drop-off at the pond.
He'd seen the young girl's shape clearly after she'd gotten wet. That cheap, short dress sticking to her limbs like it'd been painted on. He knew from experience that his hands could encircle her gorgeously tiny waist with ease and that her boyish hips flared out only enough to say she was a girl. That much innocent beauty alone was enough, but with Billie-Ann there was yet more. Her thighs and legs had perfect proportions… long, lanky and tan. Every sinew, every bone and muscle seemed sculpted for the perfectionist, and Hanson counted himself one.
Sweet calves swelling just a little. Her ankles fine and delicate as her wrists. And to top it off, Billie's hands and feet had that childish grace and slimness that made him almost have to turn away when she moved them.
"Eatin' stuff for sho," he laughed, shoving at his swollen crotch.
There were indeed parts of Billie-Ann he had yet to see, but if the rest of her was so good her sweet cunny was most likely a masterpiece.
Hanson tried to stand up but groaned with the strangle hold his pants had on his hardened cock. Cursing under his breath, he limped to the porch rail, and, curling his fingers under it, lifted mightily until the blood surged away from his cock and into the bulging arm muscles that were now demanding it. In a few seconds he felt his parts soften and relax and he strolled into the house for another glass of tea.
Hell, he'd just have to go to Elsie's… Billie or not. At least he could get his ashes hauled by Alicia Shelton and stop thinking about white meat for a while.
At five after eight, Hanson finished drying from his bath and slipped into a pair of suede-leather pants, tight in the ass and flaring slightly over his high boots.
"Shit," he laughed, slapping the back of one thigh, "I'll show these country boys how to dress." Then he pulled on a skintight jersey, tucked it in and cinched up the silver buckle of his big brown belt.
"You be careful, son," his father called from his rocking chair as Hanson walked down the front steps. "I hear Elsie's gets to goin', even on a week night."
"Now how'd you know I'se goin' to Elsie's?" Hanson laughed, jingling the ignition keys around his finger.
Mr. Allen chuckled and stuck a crooked cigar between his teeth. "Now where else would a good-looking black boy be goin' durin' the night in this county?"
"Yeah, you right, old man," Hanson said, crossing the yard.
Lucas Allen leaned his chair against the house, smoking. "I reckon if you was in Kansas City or Memphis you'd be going somewhere else, but 'round here you'll be going to Elsie's."
Still smiling, Hanson backed the truck out of the yard and headed down the narrow, bumpy road towards the fork. It hadn't even occurred to him that Billie-Ann might decide to go with him to Elsie's, but as he passed the big tree where he'd told her to meet him, Hanson glanced to the side anyway.
"Great God almighty!" he roared, locking up all four wheels of the old truck… holding the pedal down till it slid sideways to a dusty stop.
Out of the bushes flashed Billie's fantastic long legs, her sandals slapping on her feet. Hanson saw that she had on a dress almost as worn out as the one she'd worn at Basset's Pond, and he couldn't help imagining her in something expensive and chic.
"What made you change your mind?" he asked, leaning across to pull the door handle. Billie gave him a thin smile and settled into the seat.
"I just got to see somebody," she said.
"See somebody at Elsie's?" Hanson started the truck off again. After a mile or two of silence, he swung left at the fork and studied the girl's pretty profile. She wasn't in a mood to talk, but he was more than a little intrigued about who she meant to meet at the Shelton place. Maybe there was more going on than he'd guessed.
"I didn't know you'd been out there before," Hanson said, fishing.
"I haven't." Billie crossed her legs and he heard the way her young skin sounded sliding over itself. "I want to talk to Elsie; that's all."
Hanson drove on, fitting the pieces together until at last he slapped the wheel and grinned across at his lovely little date.
"Don't tell me you went and got yourself knocked up! That's the only reason I can figure anybody wanting to go to see Elsie for." He watched Billie's childishly shaped face redden. "Here I been thinking I didn't have any competition."
At those words, Billie turned toward him. "I don't want you to think anything about what happened at the pond the other day," she said.
"Just don't think it means anything."
Hanson gave her a sly smile. "Don't jive me, baby; you was diggin' it almost as good as I was."
Billie kept her face straight ahead. They were on a long straight piece of road now and the weeds slipped quickly by on both sides of the truck. Hanson was caught up with Billie's nose now. So turned up and short… almost as short as Alicia's brown, broad one.
"Well, I'm glad you came along with me anyway," he said.
The young girl glanced over and then her face broke into a smile. Even as she looked out the window on her side, Hanson could see the smile staying at the corners of her dainty curving lips.
It was getting dark and when another pickup came towards them out of the soft colors of country dusk, Billie ducked behind the dashboard.
"Looks to be Jed Judson," Hanson said, squinting into the side mirror at the disappearing truck. "That fellow that works for Beauchamp." He narrowed his eyes at Billie as she climbed back into the seat. "You know him?"
"I know him."
Then her eyes met his and she blushed again. "It's not what you're thinkin'."
Hanson let her sit for a while without bothering. But in a moment or two he was once more looking sideways at Billie's loveliness. Her cheap, thin dress was pulled up far enough for him to make out a nickel-sized vaccination scar on one thigh and he only wished he could stop the truck and kiss it. That set him to thinking about Jed and wondering how far Billie-Ann had gone with him.
"Who you like to be with better?" Hanson asked angrily. "That stupid ofay Jed or me?" It sounded dumb, but he hadn't been able to stop himself.
He knew Billie had sensed her advantage. Lazily, she brushed the long strands of gold-brown hair from her eyes and put a skinny elbow out the window.
"You… I guess." She gave him a hard look. "But that don't mean-"
"Okay, okay," Hanson said, waving his hand. He knew he should let it ride, but it was hard having Billie so close to him and yet so far away at the same time.
"Say, how come you didn't try to get away the other day when I had you in the pool?"
Billie looked as if she were interested in an insect stuck on the windshield. "I couldn't. The water was too deep and-"
"But when I started kissing and hugging you, you just hugged right back." Hanson gave her a smile. "Don't tell me you didn't."
For the first time since he'd picked her up Billie looked cornered. "I … Well, I…"
"You were so tight against me that I had to peel you off when we got out of the water." He slowed the truck down and pulled up into the winding lane that led to Elsie Shelton's roadhouse. "You liked the way it felt, didn't you?"
"I was afraid!" Billie started nibbling the nail of one pretty finger.
"Afraid I'd let you go. Afraid I'd quit kissing that darling little neck of yours." Hanson could see that his words were having some effect. Billie's breasts were rising and falling in fast rhythm and her ears flushed pink behind the fine curtain of her hair.
"I don't think we'd better talk about it."
"And you kissed me, too." Hanson gave a tight laugh. "Now surely you didn't forget all that tonguin' and bitin'."
Billie-Ann looked down at her clenched fists. "I shouldn't have…"
"Why not?" He touched one of her hands lightly and she didn't pull away. "You kiss mighty fine for a white girl."
Elsie's big place loomed in front of them and Hanson pulled up in the front yard and turned off the key. There were cars parked everywhere, even an old motorcycle leaning against the side of the house. He looked over at Billie to see her reaction to his last words, but she was just rubbing circles with her finger on the dusty dashboard.
When Hanson got out his side, she scooted across the seat and jumped down. A jukebox was blaring through the open doorway of the big front room as he started up the walk, Billie clasped one of his arms with both hands.
"Don't l-leave me once we're inside." Her voice shook with fear.
He grinned and put an arm around her narrow shoulders. "Now that's the way I like you. Stickin' to me like paint!" Then they were inside and the familiar smell of beer and smoke hit Hanson's nostrils. As BillieAnn passed the jukebox and her lithe form reflected back the colored lights, the laughter and loud talking dwindled suddenly away. A huge man at the bar broke the silence.
"Damn if it ain't Hanson. Come here and let me buy you a beer!"
Hanson went over and slapped the man's palm. "Hey, Sam, how's it go?"
Then he lifted Billie onto a stool and stood close… pressing his chest against her warm back. Elsie came over and drew a couple of cold ones as the conversations behind them started up again. Hanson could hear the giggling laughter of Alicia and the throaty swearing of an older girl somewhere in the big room.
Elsie put the sweating glasses on the bar and bobbed her head at Billie-Ann. "She want anything?"
Hanson could see by the big woman's expression that she wasn't overjoyed at having a young white girl in the place.
"What she wants, Elsie," Hanson said, leaning forward, "is to talk with you."
Elsie Shelton looked at Billie so hard that the girl had to turn her head.
"I'm busy now. Maybe later."
As Elsie shuffled off, Hanson whispered against Billie's soft hair,
"It's okay; we'll catch her later."
"Don't be shy to no alcohol," Sam said to Billie. "Here, you can have mine and I'll get another one…"
Seeing her confusion made Hanson grin, and he nodded at her to go ahead and drink.
"Oh, no," Billie said, shaking her head. "I don't really want-"
"Go ahead now," Sam insisted, pushing the glass in front of her.
She picked the glass up and took a small sip. Then another larger swallow. The third time she set the glass back on the bar it was only half-full.
"Say now, that little gal can drink," Sam said, rocking on his stool.
"Mighty fine-lookin', too, Hanson."
"Jest don't you forget who she came in with," he told the big man, poking his bottom lip out at him. When he looked back at Billie she was biting hard on a fingernail.
"Hey, Elsie," he called, "let's have a couple more beers and you might just as well pour some shots to go with 'em!" Now that he had lovely Billie-Ann with him for the evening Hanson had stumbled onto an idea.
He wasn't especially proud of it, but it was something anyway… something that might move things along a little faster. He and Sam were going to get Billie drunk.