When Mr. Lockhart had left the house, he didn't take his case with him. Velma knew this for certain as she watched him depart. And so she found herself searching for it when she went up to tidy Mr. Lockhart's room, but was unable to find where he had stashed the case. She almost began to doubt she'd ever seen the case, which she knew to be nonsense.
She could see in her mind Mr. Lockhart, standing in the darkness of the front porch, the case in his gloved hand. A moment later and she recalled how troubled he sounded when he thought the case had gone missing when Lamont was showing him the upstairs.
But there was no explaining where it could have gone. It was neither in his bedroom, nor in the third-floor space, nor anywhere in-between.
The only possible place it could be, she determined, was in the bottom drawer of the dresser, which had a keyhole, but the key was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 5
The next few days went by without any trouble. Life for the Barneses had returned to a more comfortable rhythm and Mr. Lockhart was, despite his eccentricities, a perfect tenant. Quiet, unassuming and kind to both Lamont and Velma when interacting with them, although interaction was rare.
It seemed such easy money for Velma and Lamont. Well, mostly Velma. On the third day, when Lamont took Mr. Lockhart's lunch to him (Velma had stepped out to purchase a new dress for a dinner date Lamont had set up for them, their first evening out in many, many months), the tenant stated his preference to be waited on only by one person: Velma.
Lamont, the consummate servant, agreed to the request, although after leaving the room, he grumbled quietly to himself and said nothing to Velma other than exactly what Mr. Lockhart had instructed. Velma looked at her husband, evaluating his attitude as she put the dress box at the top of her closet. He managed to keep a neutral tone and expression enough to placate any worry she might have felt.
But Mr. Lockhart gave Velma very little trouble. There were no more nude incidents like that first morning and Velma soon dismissed the feelings she had as nothing more than nervousness or anxiety over their financial woes.
In fact, waiting on Mr. Lockhart seemed to do Velma good as it harkened back to her days when she was a girl and waiting on others was her life. It was familiar and it reminded her of a time that was hard, but still with good memories. It was the time she met Lamont, after all.
The fact that Mr. Lockhart wasn't quite like any previous employer she'd worked for, what with his strange nature and comings and goings, actually made it all the more enjoyable, for it gave her something to think on often and in a way, it amused her.
Those qualities were mild, compared to other experiences she and Lamont had encountered with former tenants. If anything, Mr. Lockhart made life a little more comfortable and relaxing for the Barneses. Since he awoke late in the day, after being out most of the evening, it allowed Lamont and Velma to sleep later than they had with previous tenants. Velma liked not having to make breakfast at six o'clock. Usually, Mr. Lockhart required nothing before noon.
But there was no denying that Mr. Thomas Lockhart was indeed a strange man.
The third night he had been in the house, Mr. Lockhart brought a large book he had purchased from a bookstore near the center of town. It was entitled Strong's Concordance. It was this book -- and Velma's Bible -- that seemed to be the only reading materials Mr. Lockhart read.
After he had eaten in the late morning, sometimes bordering on noon, Mr. Lockhart would spend hours reading Scripture and going back and forth between the Bible and the concordance.
The other strange thing was that he left his money lying out on the dresser, even while he was out. Velma mentioned this one afternoon.
"Mr. Lockart?"
"Tom, Velma. Tom."
"Yes, sir. Tom, with all respect, you should put your money in the bank, or keep it somewhere safe," she said, gesturing absent-mindedly to the dresser drawer where she guessed the case had been stashed.
Mr. Lockhart chuckled and walked to the dresser where he spread the money across the dresser, as if to count it.
"As you know, I read God's Word. But did you also know that I read people?" he said.
"No, sir. How's that?"
"I can tell what people are like just by looking at them. I can look at a person and tell you pretty much everything you'd ever want to know about them. It's a sort of gift."
Off of her blank look, Mr. Lockhart smiled. "What I'm saying, Velma, is that I know a trustworthy person when I see one." Suddenly, he was across the room and in front of her, almost as if he glided toward her, like some hawk swooping down upon a field mouse. His eyes, so crystal blue and sharp, looked into her deeply.
"I assure you, Velma, that I know exactly the type a person is when I look at them."
There was something in the words, in how he delivered them, in how his tone changed slightly, that chilled Velma in that moment. She felt a twinge of fear, as if he would suddenly unhinge his jaw and devour her in one large gulp.
She immediately thought back to the time she heard him reading from her Bible, those fearful passages about harlots and sex and adultery. It was something both she and Lamont had heard at least once a day since he'd arrived at their house.
A part of her didn't take all that much issue with Mr. Lockhart's reading or the Bible, because she herself didn't have too high an opinion of women, especially those referenced in those verses. She knew loose women in her life, from the single women who lived near her growing up, to some of the servant women who found themselves all too eager to take an employer up on an offer to climb into bed. It usually meant more money, or a few baubles in return, but Velma took no interest in such things. Perhaps it had been her upbringing, but even when she had sex with Lamont, before they were married, it was done with great certainty that this was the man she would marry.
Yes, she couldn't deny the fantasizing she had done when it came to the magnate's son. She had masturbated that night in the library watching the young man and his fiancé fuck wildly in the late hour. And she couldn't deny that Mr. Lockhart reminded her of that former employer's son. Mr. Lockhart was a handsome man, for a white man. And having seen him naked, fully naked, she appreciated what she saw.
She found herself suddenly thinking of what it would be like to take his long cock in her mouth right there on the spot as he continued to look at her, a strange smile spreading across his lips. Lamont was downstairs, but he rarely went upstairs now that Mr. Lockhart had made it clear that only Velma was to wait on him.
Velma tried to push the thought away, trying to remember that Mr. Lockhart was odd and she had no business letting things go beyond the role of landlady and tenant.
"What else can you tell me, Tom?" The words escaped her lips before she could retrieve them.
He looked at her, as a snake would test the air where prey was nearby, the eyes probing her face. He stepped back and surveyed her fully.
As he stepped back, Velma noticed that Mr. Lockhart had an erection. She darted her eyes back to him, but not fast enough. He glanced down and then back up at her, his smile intact.
"Afraid. Until I arrived with money, you and your husband were at the edge of the precipice, so to speak. I could tell from the furnishings and the corner cutting that times are -- were -- tight for you. But there's a fire in you. I see it in women who work hard and love deeply, perhaps to the point that when tragedy strikes, everything falls apart for you and you despair easily."
She did her best to keep her eyes locked with his. He continued, "I think you love your husband, but he adores you more. You have sex with him, but not as much as you used to and you don't enjoy it, but you do it because you love him or you feel some sense of duty to him because he is your husband and you've made a covenant with God and Mr. Barnes, to love and cherish all your days."
"Sir, I think I should be going now--" she tried to start but Mr. Lockhart wasn't having any of it. He stepped forward again until his face was mere inches from hers.
"Ask me how I know
these things, Velma. Ask me," he whispered.
"Sir, Tom, I don't think this is appropriate."
"I am not an appropriate man, Velma. Even now, I know you thought about pleasuring me orally just moments ago."
Her eyes went wide. "How-- what?"
"And I must say, the thought of these ruby lips," he said, placing one gentle index finger on them. Velma didn't protest. "As you can see, I feel positively fit to explode." He looked down, removing his finger from her full lips. Velma looked down as well.
His manhood was about to burst through the zipper of his dress pants.
"I can't," Velma whispered. "Lamont is downstairs."
"No, he isn't. I saw him leave ten minutes ago, from the window. I suspect he went to pick up the afternoon edition and judging from the number of times he's smoked his pipe since my first day here, he's probably due for a fresh packet. Which means he's probably got about a good thirty minutes ahead of him to reach the newsstand and then the tobacco store. Which means we've a good thirty minutes, Velma."
"But you're a Christian man. You read the Bible," Velma protested.
Mr. Lockhart smiled, his hand finding Velma's long fingers. He gently moved her hand from her bosom and placed it on his erection. She tugged softly from his grip at first but once she felt the large coil sheathed by the fabric of his dress pants, she kept her hand on it.
"I am. And I believe you a God-fearing woman. Yet, here we are. I won't deny it, Velma. I realize what we are about to do here. But I believe in fate and what is undeniable and what is undeniable is the fact that I would very much like to know what it feels like to have your beautiful mouth on me." Mr. Lockhart said it all so fluidly, his voice like a haze in her ears that surrounded her and mesmerized her.
She began breathing heavily, her ample bosom heaving. It was as if her breasts would burst from her dress until she pressed forward and kissed Mr. Lockhart hard on the lips. They faces locked in a furious, desperate clash. Lips and tongues eagerly finding each other until Mr. Lockhart pulled her away and gently pressed against her shoulders, lowering her. She took the hint and dropped to her knees, fumbling at his belt and zipper at first, until she deftly lowered his pants.
His cock was fully erect and long. She took it in her hands at first -- both hands, for it was so long -- and began stroking it. Mr. Lockhart sighed, looking up toward the ceiling. She couldn't believe what was happening. It was as if she was outside of her body, watching this happen. Then, without another thought, she placed the tip of his cock in her mouth. Mr. Lockhart tensed at first before letting out a groan of absolute pleasure.
To him, her lips and her tongue felt like the finest velvet, setting every nerve ending in his cock full of tingles. She began bobbing her head, taking more and more of him in her mouth until he placed both hands on her head, ever so gently, to steady her and to begin slowly using her mouth as he worked himself in and out.
Already, Velma could taste the pre-cum in her mouth, the hard saltiness, but there was sweetness there as well. Lamont's cum had often been bitter, she suspected because of the pipe tobacco. She'd noticed a difference after pipe tobacco had been cut from the expense list during their famine.
Lamont. Oh, dear Lord, she thought. What if he came back early? What if he found them here? Perfect butler aside, he would probably kill Lockhart and shake her like a rag doll.
Perhaps Mr. Lockhart sensed something in her (or he could read her thoughts?), because he pulled out of her wanting mouth. His cock was shiny and slick from her saliva. Velma was still breathing heavily. She felt drugged.
"Your mouth," was all he said, hushed. "More."
As if on command, Velma rushed her mouth to his cock and began sucking eagerly. She placed her hands around on his buttocks, feeling the warm, pliable flesh and the strong muscles underneath the skin, and squeezed as she took him in deeper, to the point she felt she might gag. Yet, she felt like she was floating and that no matter how large he was, she could keep taking him, even to the point of him filling her throat and mouth with cum.
But she pulled his cock out of her mouth and began stroking it again. Her saliva had lubricated his cock such that her fingers slid against his white skin, massaging the tip as he continued to groan and whisper things she couldn't hear. She put him back in her mouth, her tongue spiraling around the shaft and head in ways that shocked her, for she had never done such with Lamont. Oh, Lamont. Her dear husband, walking for the paper and tobacco, oblivious that his wife had been unfaithful to him in this...
She kept sucking because in the moment, there was nothing else. It was as if she wanted nothing but Mr. Lockhart's hard, long cock in her mouth. More than air, more than food, more than anything else.
After what felt like an eternity, she removed his cock and stroked it as she began kissing and sucking on his balls, taking them one at a time in her mouth. Mr. Lockhart stumbled backwards slightly, finding his balance as he braced himself against the dresser.
"Yes, so good. So good," he said, looking down at her as she met his gaze, his cock back in her mouth. She pulled it out again and rubbed the tip against her luscious lips.
He exhaled and nodded. "I'm about to explode."
She worked on him for several more minutes until he could hold no more. He pulled out his cock and with a jerk began spraying Velma's face with warm cum. It covered her such that she had to keep her eyes closed. Involuntarily, her tongue began licking at her lips until he pushed the tip of his cock back at her. She slowly sucked at the head, and only the head, as if trying to gain the last few drops.
Finally, he withdrew. She remained on her knees, hoping that he would hand her something to help her clean off her face. A clean washcloth, one she had provided him earlier in the day, landed in her hands. It had been tossed to her. She took it and began wiping the cum from her face. Once able to open her eyes again, she saw that Mr. Lockhart had finished wiping off his cock, which was slowly deflating, and had pulled up his pants, fastening them back in place.
He turned his back to her as she rose from the floor. "I've never done that before, sir," she said.
"It didn't seem like it," he said.
"No, I mean... not with another man," she said. Reality was creeping back into the room for Velma. Poor, poor Lamont.
Mr. Lockhart had nothing to say. He had not turned to face her. He appeared to be looking out the window.
"I'm sorry, sir," Velma said. She couldn't find the words, the explanation... had he bewitched her in some way?
"Don't apologize," he said. "We both had the urge. We both committed to it. Now, we're done."
Velma felt such an urge, a wish, for this to all be a dream and she would awaken in her bed, feverish. But she was there, still awake, her face in need of soap and water.
"Take $100 from the dresser," Mr. Lockhart said.
Velma looked at the back of the man's head, anger building in her.
"I'm no whore," she said, getting up, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
Mr. Lockhart turned, surprised and shocked. His face actually softened a bit. "Velma, I never thought such a thing. The money is for you to take care of any expenses... for me... or yourself. Believe it or not, you've done me a great service. I felt a great deal of stress, what with my grueling studies and night courses. I feel like a new man and I owe it all to you."
He approached her gently this time, yet she still took a step back.
"The only women who have shown me kindness, true kindness, in my life are black women. The only woman I've ever loved was a black woman. It was for that reason my family banished me from my home, my town." He trailed off, lost in thought. Velma saw the sadness in his face.
"I'm sorry," he said. "When I saw you that first night I arrived, you reminded me of my Clementine. I lost her when my family..." He shook his head.
"I haven't experienced the touch of a woman since," he managed after a few moments of silence. "Until now." He looked back at her. "Oh, Velma. I'm sorry if I've harmed you. My lu
st overwhelmed me this afternoon. I wanted you so badly. I will pack my things and find another place to live. The remainder of the money on the dresser is yours and Mr. Barnes'. It should help at least for a few more months, I imagine."
Mr. Lockhart turned away from her and resumed his gaze out the window, his shoulders slumped.
Velma could hardly believe herself, but she felt sorry for the young man. "I don't want you to leave," she said. "Lamont would be upset." She was lying and she was certain Mr. Lockhart could tell she was lying, but there it was.
Sugar in Her Bowl Page 6