by Joy Redmond
Chapter Eight
By age fourteen, Lance was five-foot-ten, muscle bound, and had facial hair.
Miss Hampton’s instincts warned her that it wouldn’t be wise to take the whip to him anymore. Instead, Lance wasn’t allowed to eat supper after a hard day’s work, and Miss Hampton took the comic books that Jimmy had left for him out of his bedroom.
Lance had read and reread the comic books every night since Jimmy had left. Tarzan was his favorite. When he read, he became the character in his mind. He always beat his chest and did a Tarzan yell before turning off the light. “I’m king of the jungle!”
When Lance turned sixteen, he took an after-school job at the A&P as a stock boy and sack boy. Mr. Wiggins, the manager, took an interest in the young orphan. “You stick with me, boy, and I’ll make a man out of ya. I’ll teach ya all about the finer things in life,” he said, as he raised his eyebrows up and down.
“Whiskey, women and money!”
“Sounds good to me,” Lance answered. “I’m making money now. When do we start with the whiskey and women?”
“When you get off the clock this afternoon, come on back to my office.”
“See ya in the back come four o’clock,” Lance said, wondering what ole Wiggins had in mind.
Lance stood six-foot-two, with muscular biceps and triceps. His jet-black hair, dark brown eyes, bronze skin, and seductive smile were irresistible. Even the young girls seemed to lose their breath when they were close to him. And he noticed the older women eyed him from head to toe as they licked their lips.
Lance clocked out at 4:02. He headed to the back of the store and tapped on Mr. Wiggins’ door.
“C’mon in.”
Lance opened the door and saw Mr. Wiggins reared back in a swivel chair, feet propped on his desk and holding a drink in his hand. Lance spied a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the desk beside another glass. He shut the door and followed Mr. Wiggins’ finger as he motioned to a chair on the other side of his desk.
Mr. Wiggins took his feet off the desk, straightened his body in the chair and asked, “Care for a drink?” as he picked up the bottle.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lance answered, holding up the empty glass.
Mr. Wiggins poured two fingers of whiskey into the glass, then poured himself another. Raising his glass toward Lance, he smiled and said, “Bottoms up!”
Lance tossed the whiskey down his throat as if he had been doing it all his life. The whiskey burned and Lance fought the urge to cough as he felt his eyes water. “Wow! Some good stuff ya got there,” Lance said, as he twirled the glass around on the desk top.
“Pour ya’self another,” Mr. Wiggins said, and drained the last drop from his glass.
Lance poured in more whiskey, trying to remember how much Mr. Wiggins had poured, so as not to seem greedy. He quickly drained the glass. The sting was powerful, but he began to like it. He wanted another shot, but since Mr. Wiggins had put down his glass and walked away from the desk, Lance didn’t refill.
Mr. Wiggins came back to the desk and dropped three magazines in front of Lance. “I bet ya ain’t never seen a naked woman. These here are the prettiest ya ever seen. All but the slant-eyed ones. They bring back too many memories of WWII, when them damn Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Some two thousand four hundred Americans died that day. And the damn war went on another five years. Then here comes those goddamn Koreans. If that wasn’t enough, now we’re at war with them damn Vietnamese. Three wars started by them slant-eyed, commie bastards. I got no use for them. Those girls are right pretty but if I had a chance, I’d kill every last one of them bitches. Their kind are commies. I hate commies.”
“How do you know the difference between Japanese, Korean and Vietnamese? They all look alike to me.”
“They’re all the same. If they’re Asian with slant-eyes, they’re commies and our enemy. They ain’t no difference just ‘cause they come from a country with a different name. They’re all the same. You remember that, boy.”
“Okay,” Lance said, as he started flipping through the magazines. He’d never seen a naked woman and he was getting an erection. It reminded him of when Jimmy and Warren used to sneak out the Sears and Roebuck catalogue. Warren would turn to the women wearing bras and panties and he’d masturbate. Jimmy would walk away, saying, “They don’t excite me in the least. Warren, what you’re doing is a sin.” He’d look over at Lance. “Don’t you ever act like that, Lance. The Bible tells us not to.”
Warren would snicker and say, “That Bible or no goddamn body is gonna tell me what I can and can’t do. You might do well to whack once in a while, Jimmy, ya little fairy. Your name should be Tinkerbell. Do you think ya’d like to whack mine?” Warren would laugh and hold his sides.
Jimmy would look as if he were about to cry and he’d walk out of the room.
Lance wanted to pounce on Warren and choke the laugh out of him. But he knew he wasn’t big enough.
As Lance flipped through the magazine, remembering back, he snickered. He hadn’t been old enough to be excited by women at that time. But these women sure gave him a stirring in his loins he hadn’t had before. There was only one Asian girl in the first magazine, and Lance thought she was pretty and sexy, but Mr. Wiggins had such a loathing for the slant-eyed bitches, he developed the same feeling. If he should ever run across one, he’d choke her to death in honor of Mr. Wiggins, who was a good man. He felt it was his patriotic duty too, since the slant-eyed bastards had caused his country to lose many good men in three wars. His palms began to itch and he rubbed them up and down his coarse denim jeans.
By 5:00p.m., Mr. Wiggins, said, “We need to get on home. Wife will be wondering where I am, and that crazy Ruby Hampton might come looking for you. I sure don’t want any trouble from that crazy old bitch.” He took a few steps behind his desk, pulled off a few leaves from a plant on a shelf and said, “Here, chew on these mint leaves. Ya don’t wanna go home smelling like liquor.”
Lance chewed the leaves, made a face, then bid Mr. Wiggins a good day and headed out of the store. The long walk back to Hampton House didn’t seem as long as it usually did. Lance’s head was spinning a bit and he loved the feeling. “Good ole Jack Daniel’s. I do believe you have become my new best friend.”
From that day forth, Lance and Mr. Wiggins enjoyed a few drinks together after work, and Lance always got to flip through the latest magazine with naked women. He even read articles in the magazines. It seemed like all the beautiful women were in California. And they were rich. The more he read, the more he drank. Mr. Wiggins never complained. He always had plenty and seemed to be happy to have a drinking buddy. Several times, Lance overdid it with his drinking. Mr. Wiggins would slap him on the back and say, “Ya gonna feel like hell tomorrow. But I’ve got a fix.” Then he’d reach into his shirt pocket and pull out a pill. “This here is called a benny. Pop this bad boy the first thing in the morning. It’ll get your juices flowing, and you’ll feel like you’re flying through the day.”
Chapter Nine
As time went on, Lance loved how drinking whiskey gave him a feeling of being all powerful and free from the world. He also loved the feeling of soaring when he popped the pills. He wasn’t sure which he liked the best. Both were the best feeling in the world. For the first time in his life, he realized he had feelings. Before he was introduced to booze and pills, he had always felt like an empty shell. He wasn’t even sure if he was human.
Every afternoon, Lance and Mr. Wiggins had their drinks and read the articles in the magazines after they had scanned the pictures. One day, Lance picked up a new magazine. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw two women making out with each other. What a turn on. Then he saw pictures of men making love to other men. That made him feel sick to his stomach.
He closed the magazine and said, “Mr. Wiggins, what the hell is with all these men and women having sex with each other? I don’t get it.”
Mr. Wiggins laughed. “They’s what you call homos. It ain’t
natural, but the world seems to be full of them. Ya need to know about things like this. Soon you’ll be out in the world on your own and ya sure don’t need to be a dumbass about the ways of the world. I call the men faggots, and the women lizzies. That’s the slang terms for them.”
“Faggots and lizzies,” Lance repeated and laughed. “I reckon it takes all kinds to make a world. Well, if that’s what they enjoy, it’s no skin off my nose. But if any faggot tries to touch me I’ll break his goddamn neck. On the other hand, I think I’d enjoy watching two lizzies make out in real life. Maybe I will someday. I’m going to see and do a lot of things once I save up enough money to get my ass out of Hampton House. I hate ole Ruby. I figure I’ll have enough money soon to tell her to kiss my ass, and I’ll walk out of that hell hole.”
Mr. Wiggins said, “Now hold on there, boy. I know you’re anxious to get away, but ya gotta hang in there till ya graduate high school. Education is very important. You get that diploma before ya go taking off.”
Lance admired Mr. Wiggins, and he decided to take his advice. He could hang on for another two years, graduate, and save more money. “I’ll have a shit-pot full by the time I take my leave,” he said with a smile. Then he poured himself another drink before heading home.
One afternoon, Lance went in to have a drink with Mr. Wiggins. He tapped on the door and heard the usual, “C’mon in.” He was anxious to grab a bottle, but Mr. Wiggins had something else on his desk. He opened a piece of aluminum foil, exposing what looked like dried crushed leaves. Then he pulled out some rolling papers from his shirt pocket. Lance watched him sprinkle the leaves on the paper, roll it, lick the paper, then put it in his mouth like it was a cigarette.
“What’s that stuff?”
“Good ole Maryjane, I call it. The proper name is marijuana.” He lit the joint, took a long drag, held it in his lungs for a minute, then slowly blew out smoke. He handed it to Lance. “Just take a big toke like I just did. Hold it a bit, then blow it out.”
“I don’t like cigarettes, Mr. Wiggins. I’ll pass.” Lance said, pushing the joint back from his face.
Mr. Wiggins giggled like a little girl. “This stuff ain’t a cigarette, boy. Now don’t go insulting me. I said take a drag,” he said rather sternly, and pushed it back toward Lance.
Lance didn’t want to insult Mr. Wiggins, his only friend, so he took the joint and imitated the act. He felt his throat sting and his lungs burned a tad. He slowly blew out the smoke and within a second he felt a rush. So calming and soothing. He took another long toke. The second one didn’t sting, but the rush was stronger. “Wow. That’s some good shit. Enough of this and I might start to like ole Ruby,” he said, and began to giggle.
They passed the joint back and forth until it was too small to smoke, then Mr. Wiggins pinched it and put it back into his shirt pocket.
“Where did ya get that stuff?”
“I can’t reveal my sources, but I can get you all you want for a price. I can’t afford to give this away. And ya gotta be careful in these parts. Too many narks around. I’ve got friends in the right places. I’ll be bringing some more tomorrow. Just give me some money and I’ll get ya some.”
“I’ll bring in some money tomorrow. How much?”
Mr. Wiggins gave Lance the price. “It’s worth every dime, don’t ya think?”
The next afternoon, after leaving Alice, Lance headed back to the store and paid Mr. Wiggins for a dime bag of marijuana. Mr. Wiggins took a bottle of Jack Daniel’s out of the top desk drawer. “Let the party begin!”
Lance was in such a good mood when he left Mr. Wiggins, he didn’t even mind to chop wood when got back to Hampton House. It was good exercise and kept him in shape. His arms were strong enough to bend steel, he assured himself. Since he kept up with his chores, Miss Hampton didn’t put up a fuss about him working a job.
Chapter Ten
The summer of Lance’s sixteenth year, Miss Hampton installed a hot water tank. The children no longer had to heat large kettles of water and carry them upstairs to fill the bathtub. When the tub was filled, the youngest child got the first bath, and went down the line to the oldest. With the hot water, each child had a warm bath and didn’t have to bathe in the same water. Lance wished that Jimmy was still at Hampton House so he could enjoy a warm, clean bath.
One night while soaking in the tub, Lance thought how Miss Hampton had always said that Jimmy was on the delicate side. He chuckled and said, “Jimmy is a faggot, you stupid bitch. And he was my best friend until you ran him off—I’ll hate you forever for making Jimmy leave.”
Then he thought about Warren. “Warren, you knew what Jimmy was and that’s why you hated him and picked on him. And you hated me because I looked up to Jimmy and not you, you hardhearted bastard.” He hoped Warren had joined the Army and got sent to Siberia, where he’d be freezing his ass off.
That summer, Lance worked full-time for Mr. Wiggins, sacking and stocking. As soon as he got his driver’s license, Mr. Wiggins let Lance use his pickup to make rural deliveries.
Lance loved to speed down the country roads, the wind blowing in his face and through his hair. It felt so liberating. Life finally had meaning. Mr. Wiggins had indeed taught him about the finer things in life.
Lance was in for another awakening when he started making house deliveries. The women of the houses took an instant shine to the young, handsome, Lance Jackson. Many of them invited him to stay awhile when he made their deliveries. They couldn’t seem to control their urge to stroke his powerful arms and pat his washboard abs.
The first time it had happened, Lance became very aroused when Alice touched him and he took the liberty of patting her butt. Her butt was mushier than he was expecting. In the pictures he was used to looking at in the magazines, the women had butts that looked as firm as his powerful arms.
After the pat and slight squeeze, Alice smiled and edged closer, and he began to roam his hands over her breasts. In a few minutes, she grabbed his face between her hands and soundly kissed his lips.
By the time the kissing started, he had an erection that was painful. Alice rubbed her hand over his erect member and by the second stroke, he ejaculated, and pulled away, wanting to run and never return.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It happens. It’s only natural.” She started kissing him again as she continued to rub her hand up and down the front of his jeans. “I know how to get it back up.”
A few more kisses—and sure enough.
Alice was his first sex partner. She was thirty-five years old, and she was very patient with him, giving instructions, telling him what she wanted, how and where. Though the pictures in the magazines had helped him know a few things, the real life deal was much different. Her naked body sure didn’t look like the girls in the magazines. They were flawless and perfect.
Alice had stretch marks, her belly was a bit mushy, and her breasts sagged somewhat. But it didn’t matter once they got down to business. She was a great lay, taking him to heights unknown.
Lance was a quick study, and he learned to take his time, hold back on his savage impulse to ravage her body, and let her reach a climax before he exploded. He also learned there was more pleasure for him when he took his time, building passions until they were both delirious before and after a climax. He always left her begging for more.
The second lady was Betsy. She was only twenty-four, she had no children, and her body was more like the girls in the magazines. She had small perky breasts, the kind Lance liked. Betsy was a good kisser, but there was something lacking in the overall lovemaking. Lance was always glad when he reached a climax, and he really didn’t care if she did or not.
The third lady was Caroline. She was forty-two and she had a great body. She taught Lance a few more tricks in the art of making love to a woman, and she did things to him that the other two women didn’t. She was dynamite in bed and Lance actually felt himself not being able to get her off his mind when the act was over and he had to make other deliveries.
He was still thinking about her when he went to bed at night. When he closed his eyes, her face and luscious lips seemed to be glued to his eyeballs.
Darlene was number four. She was plump, had huge breasts and reminded him of Miss Hampton. He had to close his eyes and envision Caroline before he could accomplish the full deed. However, Darlene liked to take the lead and she made love to him while he just lay back and enjoyed. The other women wanted him to do most of the pleasuring.
After a few months of cavorting with the women, Lance was confident that he was a woman magnet and a magnificent lover. No woman would ever be able to resist him. So, he figured he needed to take advantage of his talents.
The next time he made a delivery to Alice, she began enticing him into her bedroom. He smiled. “Sorry, baby, but I don’t have time for play today. I’ve got to get back to the store and do extra work because I need the money. He pushed away, turned, and headed toward the back door.
Alice hurried after him. “Lance, please don’t leave me in this condition. I need you.”
“Sorry, babe, money is more important today.” He let the words register, then added, “If you think you can pay me what I’d make in overtime at the store, well, I guess I could be persuaded to take care of your needs.”
“I think that could be arranged.”
From that day on he gave the same speech to all the women. All of them agreed to pay his price, except Darlene. He was seduced and paid by two more ladies as the summer progressed.
After he had made his last deliveries of the day and headed back to the grocery store, he’d stick one arm out of the window of the pickup, tap his fingers on the roof and whistle Dixie. He was confident that he was the greatest stud in North Carolina.
Summer was coming to an end, which meant he would only see the women on weekends. He was going to miss Alice. And he was going to miss the extra money, but he was going to do as Mr. Wiggins had said and get his education.