Jessie Palmer Ch. 03

"That's it," Precious purred, inserting one foot between Claire's thighs and softly rubbing her sex. "Fucking on marijuana is like nothing else. Feel it?"

Claire moaned at the touch, and took another drag on the joint, releasing the smoke through her nostrils.

She felt alive again as the sensation hit her, as if she could do anything. Her head fell to one side, like a naughty child looking at her mother. Except that this wasn't her mother. It was her lover. Her black lover.

"Yeah," she breathed, her brown eyes glazing over as the buzz spread further through.

"That's better," Precious encouraged.

She took the joint from her and inhaling a long drag before handing it back.

"So, you want to know all about life as an escort?" she asked, reaching for the soap.

Claire nodded silently. Precious's foot was still between her thighs and she wanted to start to hump on it, to feel the delicious pressure on her sex again. But this girl could tell her things that were essential to her story.

"It's the best job in the world," Precious continued, working a creamy lather into her hands.

She caressed the soapy foam across her tits, first the right and then the left. Her hands moved slowly as she covered each breast, as if her actions were designed to tease the reporter. Claire took another long drag at the joint, the smoke curling out from her full lips and through her nostrils.

"The money is great. All the sex I want. Clients who like to buy me presents to show their appreciation. Most of my clients are white, but yours will be black, honey..."

She paused to let the implication sink in as she caressed the soap across her stomach and downwards, under the water, until it seemed she was using it to masturbate herself.

"Believe me, they're goin' to love that milky-white body of yours, Jessie," she went on, her foot beginning to move between Claire's legs again. "That'll really get their juices flowin'. You'll drive them crazy, honey, especially with that eagerness you have for black pussy."

Claire tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out. Eagerness for black pussy. Was she really that obvious?

She took another drag on the joint, losing herself in the heady sensations of the marijuana as Precious ran her big toe along the full length of her opening. The girl was grinning at her, almost defying her to resist as she gently parted her labia with her toe. When it eased inside her, Claire thought she would pass out.

"The little white girl craves it, yeah?" Precious continued to tease, rotating her toe as she spoke.

Claire's body shuddered and jerked. When the girl repeated the action, she whimpered like a baby. And when she twisted the toe inside her a third time, there was no holding back.

The orgasm hit her like a freight train.

Precious kept the toe inside her as Claire rose to the summit and then peaked. Her caressing movements were gentler, as if pacing her down from the throbbing intensity until, eventually, she eased the foot away.

With both hands on the side of the tub, she rose to her feet and stepped out of the water. Claire watched transfixed as beads of water cascaded down her toned black body. Tiny droplets released themselves from her wet hair, landing silently on her perky breasts and tantalisingly making their way down to her erect, dark-chocolate nipples.

"Finish the joint," she huskily breathed, running the fingers of her right hand across her clean-shaven folds.

She lewdly opened her engorged labia wider with her fingers, letting Claire see the intoxicating combination of black and pink.

"Then we can continue your education, yeah?"

----------

The scene as Claire exited the bathroom stopped her in her tracks. Precious had stretched herself across the bed, her legs spread wide. One hand was squeezing her right breast and the other was busy between her legs.

For a moment she just stood by the door, leaning against the doorframe so that she could keep her balance as she watched. The intoxicating effect of the marijuana inhabiting her system seemed to play out the action infront of her in slow motion.

The rise and fall of Precious's breasts was almost hypnotic. Her pierced nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked. And the wonderful darkness of the skin between her thighs contrasted with the illicit glimpses of pink between her working fingers.

"You like watchin' the lil black girl fuck herself?" she heard Precious whisper seductively. "Don't get shy on me now. Come closer, honey..."

She slowly pulled her hand away as she spoke and held two wet fingers out to Claire.

"Black pussy, honey," she murmured provocatively. "The best taste in the world. Ya know ya want it."

Claire couldn't help herself. She didn't want to help herself. Her knees were threatening to buckle but she was stepping across the floor towards Precious almost before she knew it. When she crawled onto the bed, the girl pressed her juice covered fingers against her parted lips.

"That's it, honey. Open up..."

There was a sultry edge to her voice, one that made Claire tingle even further.

Precious grinned into her clouded eyes as she took the proffered fingers into her mouth. It was as if she knew—they both knew—that she had crossed the Rubicon. There was no going back. She suddenly leaned back on the bed, resting her elbows on the mattress as she spread her legs wider and pointed down to her juicy sex.

"It's all yours, Jessie. Come and get it, honey."

Claire's need took over as she shifted position and dipped her head. The first lick across Precious's glistening labia was electrifying. The taste, texture and colour all combined to produce an effect stronger than even the most powerful aphrodisiac.

She frantically pushed the girl's legs wider still as her mouth went to work. Precious's skin was like silk—black silk—under her hands and her heated gaze stared upwards into her lover's as she began to lap along her wet labial lips.

Precious was right. It was the best taste in the world.

She couldn't get enough and to begin with there was no finesse. Just frenetic licking. Her hands curled around Precious's thighs, pulling her closer as she covered every inch of her flesh with her tongue. When she tilted her head so that she could push her nose into her pussy, the aroma was almost as intoxicating as her taste.

Claire was lost. She was found. She was out of control.

"I know, honey, I know," Precious murmured, gripping the reporter's damp hair between her fingers.

She yanked her head away momentarily so that she could stare down into her eyes.

"Can't get enough, can ya, Jessie?" she huskily purred, curling an errant stand of hair behind Claire's right ear. "And when Precious is finished with ya, this little white girl is gonna know all there is to know about pleasurin' a black woman."

She held Claire's face in position as she raised her hips and smeared her juices across her mouth again.

"This is every white girl's fantasy, honey," she murmured happily, as she felt the reporter's instantly tongue flick out. "You just get to play yours out. So let's take it nice and slow to begin with, yeah?"

----------

The small café near the newspaper's office was a popular venue for Donald Moseley. It provided a change of scenery when things were getting on top of him and he loved the aroma of fried food could be smelled a few hundred yards away.

What was different was that it was the first time he had invited Claire to join him there.

"Two all day breakfasts, Sam," he growled to the cigarette smoking owner, without even asking what Claire wanted. "But coffee immediately."

He shot her one of his looks as they found a table in the far corner, where it was quiet. They could speak without being overheard.

"Do I look as tired as you," he asked. "I've been chasing my tail half the night and all morning, but you look like you've hardly had any sleep at all."

Claire hoped the blush that hit her cheeks wasn't noticeable and she slipped a hand through her long hair, as if to create a diversion. She wasn't sure how to respond. Did she really look tired? She felt exhilarated.

"Thanks for the compliment," she eventually quipped, hoping she wasn't overstepping the mark.

Moseley chuckled to himself as he used the edge of the tablecloth to clean his glasses. Replacing them on his face, he used his index finger to push them up the bridge of his nose.

"My pleasure," he grunted, his expression changing from amusement to business in a nano-second. "Okay, let's get on with this, Miss Instincts. What's the latest?"

Claire sat back in her chair. Where the heck to start? She had wanted to buy herself more time before she had to meet the editor, so that she could think things through. But he'd grabbed her as soon as she'd returned to the office after leaving Precious's apartment.

"I'm edging closer..." she tentatively began.

Moseley's stopped her with an upraised palm.

"Edging closer? What the fuck does that mean?"

She hesitated, trying to recall exactly what she'd told him at their last meeting. So much had happened that it would be easy to slip up.

Fortunately, the sudden arrival of their coffees gave her an extra few seconds to think. The café owner grunted something about their meals following shortly before heading back to the kitchen.

Claire watched him go before picking up one of the mugs. The chipped one. She stared at the dirty rim before reluctantly taking a sip. Had it been washed before it had been filled with coffee?

"Don't be so precious," Moseley told her, when she pulled a face at the bitter taste. "It's free, isn't it?"

He took a noisy slurp from his own mug and managed to spill a few drops onto the tablecloth in the process. Claire didn't let him see her roll her eyes.

"Well? I'm waiting," the editor continued, setting his mug back down on the table. "What the fuck does edging closer mean. You're either making progress or you're not. And if not—"

"I'm making progress," Claire interrupted, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Great progress. I don't have any confirmation of names yet, but I do know exactly what's going on."

She'd written out her first draft of the story, after all. She could run through the salient points with him, but avoid the detail she was still working on. Hopefully that would keep him interested and allow her to continue to run with the investigation.

"It better be good," Moseley grunted, sitting back as the café owner walked across to them with their food. "I have so much crap piled on my shoulders right now that I could do with some good news."

Claire waited until the food was served. It took Sam two passes to serve their hot plates, and then deliver the sachets of sauces, and mustard.

Moseley had his mouth full of bacon and egg before she could continue.

"Let me recap," she said, trying to ignore the yoke dripping down the front of the editor's shirt. "The girl I saw at the Young Offenders Institute—Laura—is a prostitute. Leroy, the guy I met, looks after the girls."

Moseley held his fork up. "That much I know. And Melissa Rhodes employed this girl, yes, without knowing anything about her extracurricular activities."

Claire bit her lip. If she told Moseley the truth, he would be certain to take the investigation from her and give it to someone more experienced. Thompson and Baines. That wasn't going to happen.

"I'm still trying to establish exactly what Melissa Rhodes knew," she settled for saying. "But what I do know for definite is that Laura is part of a prostitution business in London."

"And we can tie her into Rhodes," Moseley said.

"Yes..."

She hesitated before continuing.

"But I'm working towards discovering exactly what that connection was before committing anything to paper. We have to be sure of our facts before—"

"Too fucking right," Moseley snapped, shovelling in another mouthful. "I can't afford for the bitch to come after the paper unless I have every angle covered."

"Exactly," Claire agreed, giving an inward sigh of relief. That gave her some breathing space. "And I'm getting there. Meanwhile, I'm trying to find out more about the prostitution activities."

"Forget it," Moseley told her.

Claire stared at him, stunned.

"What?"

"You think prostitution in London is news? Don't be naïve. Focus on the Melissa Rhodes connection. That's what will set this story apart."

"Oh I am," Claire went on, feeling more confident. "That's part of it. But these aren't your run of the mill hookers. They're exclusively lesbian."

Moseley's eyebrows went up. He was interested.

"From what I can tell," she continued, "Its interracial lesbian. Black escorts who look after white clients and vice-versa."

The editor stopped eating for a second.

"You know this for a fact?"

Claire nodded.

"I do. And there's another angle. They recruit girls in all sorts of ways. Get white teenagers drunk and then take advantage of them, train them to be escorts."

"Against their will? That's what you're saying?"

"That's part of what I'm working on," she said. "The way I figure it is that we have a great story whichever way this pans out. We're just talking about degrees."

Moseley pushed his empty plate away. He'd cleaned in less the time it had taken her to sip half her coffee.

"You eating that?" he suddenly asked, glancing at her plate.

Claire shook her head. She was hungry after her exhaustive session with Precious, but the grease swimming around on the edge of her plate told her it would be safer to wait until she got home before she tried something to eat.

Moseley crooked a finger and had swallowed his first mouthful of egg before he spoke again.

"What leads are you following?"

"I've spoken to both Laura and Leroy." She'd keep Monika out of this for the time being. "And I've now established a good contact with another one of the girls. I know I can get her to tell me more."

"And you're going to tell me you don't need any help, right?"

Claire kept her face straight.

"If I needed it, I'd tell you. "I have one key contact right now and I don't want to risk spooking her by involving anyone else."

The expression on Moseley's face was difficult to decipher and for a moment her heart stood still. Don't take this away from me. Please.

"You need more money to oil the wheels?"

The question took Claire by surprise, but her heart rate surged. If the editor was offering her more cash from his slush fund, it was clear he was allowing her to continue with the investigation. Alone. For the time being, at least.

"Possibly," she said, swallowing some air. "I'd like the option."

Moseley raised his fork again.

"You got it, but you get my say-so on anything above a couple of hundred. Understand?"

Claire kept a straight face, even though she was dancing inside.

"Absolutely."

"Make sure you do," he said, forcing down the last sausage on his plate.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then cleaned his fingers on the tablecloth.

"Meantime, I want to see more progress. And quickly. Get the first draft of the story on my desk within forty-eight hours and I'll decide whether we keep running with it. Clear?"

Claire nodded. If nothing else, it bought her some time.

Moseley pushed himself to his feet and reached for his wallet, before thinking again.

"Pay the bill, Miss Instincts," he gruffly said, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. "Then I suggest you get back to work. You have a deadline to meet."

----------

Claire's laptop sat on the kitchen table beside her as she rubbed her eyes. She'd been typing for the last couple of hours, amending the draft she'd already completed. The story made great reading, even if it was still only brushed the surface. But she wanted more.

She glanced down at the scribbles on the notepad in front of her. Melissa Rhodes' name was there, as was Olivia's. Both were circled in red ink, but for different reasons.

As good as it already was, uncovering Melissa Rhodes as one of Laura's clients would change the whole tenor of the story. Claire's success as an investigative journalist would be assured. Not only that, these things often had a snowball effect. Once the Member of Parliament had been exposed, who knew which other public figures were involved.

As for Olivia, all Claire knew was that this was the woman who headed the business. Was there a way of finding out more about her? That really would be game, set and match. Exposing Olivia for what and who she was would blow open the entire prostitution operation.

A ring on the doorbell stopped her thoughts mid stream. She glanced at the clock. Who would be visiting her unannounced at this time of night?

Quickly saving the work she'd just completed, she pushed the laptop lid closed and made her way towards the apartment door. Fastening the safety latch, she eased it open and peeked into the hallway.

"Hello, Missy," a familiar voice said. "I hear ya've been a busy girl. Ain't ya gonna invite me inside so we can discuss?"

----------

"I called in to see Precious on the way here," Leroy told her.

He'd followed Claire into the kitchen and she was grateful that she'd closed her laptop before answering the door. Her notebook still remained on plain view next to the computer so she stood with her back to it, keeping it away from Leroy's sight until she could turn the page over.

"She said ya intended to join the team," he added, pulling a joint from somewhere and lighting it. "That right? Decision made?"

Claire hesitated as she watched him take a toke. It seemed common practice in his world.

She was in no doubt that Precious would have told him she'd stayed the night with her. Why wouldn't she? The girl had nothing to hide. And Claire had acted like she intended to become an escort.

"Yes," she hesitantly said, playing along despite the danger. "Decision made."

Go with it for forty-eight hours at least, and see what else she could find out. Then she would be in a better position to meet Donald Moseley's deadline with something more substantial.

But her heart was all of a sudden in her throat as Leroy took a step towards her. From the bulge evident in his groin area, it was clear what was on his mind.

Unconsciously, she took a step back against the kitchen island, feeling the cool surface of the counter behind her. This was her home. Leroy shouldn't be here. And yet the thought of blowing him again was making her wet.

The joint hung from the corner of his lips as he casually walked across the room towards her, his hungry gaze covering every inch of her milky-white body.

"That's good to hear, Missy," he said, stepping closer than she was comfortable with. "Ya know it makes sense."

She turned her head away as he moved his face closer to hers, clutching the counter edges behind her. Bracing herself.

"Shy all of a sudden?" he grinned, reaching up to touch her face. His hands were rough and callused. "Ya weren't shy in the car the other day, when ya sucked Leroy's dick."

The words made her shiver. So did the way his body pushed against hers, pinning her in place. His cock was hardening as he pressed it against her stomach.

"What did I tell ya when we first met?" he asked, establishing his authority from the outset. It was a rhetorical question. "This is my territory, and my rules. I told ya to always remember that..."

His eyes held hers as he spoke, emphasizing his words. They didn't leave hers as his fingers went to the buttons of her red blouse and unfastened them, one by one. Smoke drifted upwards between them from the joint in his mouth as he pulled the two halves of her blouse apart and gripped the underside of her bra cups.

When he yanked them upwards, Claire gasped out loud.