The Secrets of Silk

by Allison Hobbs

  Instead of driving toward the blackberry field where she’d promised to meet up with Ed, she steered the Caddy back toward her own neighborhood and glided into the parking area of the Flower Hill bar.

  Had Buddy been at home instead of working overtime on such a gloriously sunny Saturday afternoon, he could have stood out on their front porch and easily spotted Silk’s car.

  On Saturdays, folks started filtering into the Flower Hill as soon as it opened in the morning. Silk sat in her car, reapplying lipstick and brushing her hair. She felt a shiver of excitement each time the door to the bar opened, emitting raucous laughter and thumping music. The place was already in full swing and she was in the mood for a good time.

  A peek in her side mirror, revealed pesky Sonny Boy coming out of Max’s store, carrying a load of boxes, which he stacked next to the trash can. Silk sank down in her seat, but she wasn’t quick enough. To be half-blind, Sonny Boy sure had good vision when it came to spotting Silk.

  Siiilk! Siiilk!” Sonny Boy waved excitedly as he yelled in his thick, sluggish voice.

  Lord knows I don’t feel like being bothered with this retarded motherfucker today!

  Limping at a fast pace, Sonny Boy rushed over to Silk’s car.

  Panting with excitement, he grinned at Silk. “Is this your car, Silk?”

  “Yup, and it’s spanking, brand-new. Do you like it?”

  “It’s purty. I can wash it up and shine it for you when I get off from work.”

  “It’s already clean and shiny. It don’t need any polishing,” Silk said with annoyance.

  “I can run a rag over it, and wipe off any smudges or dust. I’ll keep it nice and spiffy for you, Silk.”

  “Not today, Sonny Boy. Why don’t you stop by my house in a few days and I’ll let you clean it off.”

  “Thank you, Silk. I’ll be knocking on your door in two days.” He held up two fingers.

  A glance in the rearview mirror exposed Franny crossing the street, heading for the bar. The closer she got, the clearer her features became. And she wasn’t smiling like Sonny Boy. The evil way she glared at the Cadillac made Silk wonder if Franny was contemplating putting sugar in her gas tank.

  By the time Franny had approached, her hard expression had been replaced with a cheerful smile. “Did your husband buy you this car?”

  “He sure did.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Franny said, stroking the car door.

  “Watch it, girl. Don’t be putting smudges on my baby,” Silk said irritably.

  Franny snatched her hand away. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry don’t cut it. You better be more careful.” Rolling her eyes, Silk opened the door and got out of the Cadillac.

  “I’ll run and get a rag and wipe the smudges off the door,” Sonny Boy chimed in.

  Franny put a hand on her plump hip and glowered at Sonny Boy. “Shut up and mind your business, Sonny Boy. I ain’t put any smudges on that car door.”

  Silk patted Sonny Boy on the arm. “You better get on back to work before Max comes looking for you.”

  “Okay, Silk. But remember, I’m gonna shine up your car for you in two days.” Again, he held up two fingers, and then limped back in the direction of Max’s store.

  Cozying up to Silk, Franny kept in step with her. “Honey chile, I swear you look like a film star. You remind me of that girl in the movie, Carmen Jones. That dress you’re wearing is sharp, and it fits you like a glove. Did your husband buy that for you, too?”

  “Of course he bought it. Buddy likes to see me dressed glamorously, and he loves spoiling me,” Silk said, rubbing her good life in Franny’s face. Franny had four crumb snatchers at home and there wasn’t a man in sight to claim nary a one of her brood.

  “Shame about the twins,” Franny mumbled. “They didn’t stand a chance what with being born so small and sickly.”

  “Yeah, it’s heartbreaking for my family and me. During these sorrowful times, I have to stay strong and be the rock for everyone to lean on.”

  “Buddy’s a lucky fellow.” Franny jerked on the handle of the bar door.

  “That’s exactly what Buddy tells me every single day,” Silk replied boastfully as she entered the Flower Hill. As always, eyes darted in her direction. Male eyes lit up in delight. But the women, with facial features as hard as marble, sized her up through wary, narrowed eyes.

  While Franny stopped to chat and mingle with a few people she knew—no doubt trying to bum a cigarette and a free drink—Silk sauntered over to the bar and took a seat.

  “How you doing, Silk? You’re looking good, baby,” Wally, the bartender, greeted in a welcoming tone. “What are you drinking—Schlitz beer?”

  “No, I done moved up in the world. I’ll have a scotch and soda on the rocks. But I don’t want the cheap stuff. Pour me a double shot of Chivas Regal,” Silk said, recalling what Nathan Lee used to drink.

  “We don’t carry Chivas Regal. How about Johnny Walker Red?”

  “That’ll do.”

  “I heard Buddy bought you a new Caddy; is that true?”

  “You heard right. She’s parked out in the lot. One of these days, I’ll take you for a spin.”

  Wally set the drink in front of her. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Silk.”

  One sip of scotch and Silk’s insides became warm. She felt amorous and there was a tingling sensation in her loins. There weren’t any interesting-looking men in the place, Silk noticed as she glanced around the bar. She wondered if her cute white boy, Ed, was still hanging around their meeting spot, waiting for her. She thought about chugging down her drink and racing to the other side of town so that Ed could suck on her poontang, but she decided against it. She’d be enraged if she drove all the way to their special spot in the blackberry field only to discover that Ed had grown tired of waiting.

  With a cigarette clamped between her fingers, Franny meandered over to the bar and took a seat next to Silk.

  “Say, Wally, give me a Schlitz, and put it on Mr. Blackwell’s tab.” Franny pointed to a white-haired gentleman who walked with a cane.

  Franny sipped her beer and smacked her lips in satisfaction. But Silk wasn’t doing so well. She squirmed in her seat, realizing that something needed to be done about her tingling pussy. She gazed at Wally and shook her head. His big, ol’ protruding belly was a sign that he probably wasn’t working with very much dick.

  A glimpse at Franny as she wrapped her lips around her cigarette, gave Silk the bright idea of trying to talk Franny into putting those juicy lips to good use. But before she uttered enticing words that would encourage Franny to slip inside the ladies room with her, the door opened and Tate sauntered in.

  “Here comes trouble,” Franny alerted Silk, recalling Silk’s adverse reaction the last time Tate had entered the Flower Hill.

  “I don’t see any trouble. All I see is a tall drink of water.” Silk fluttered her fingers at Tate and sent him a smile.

  Tate’s expression brightened as he glided across the barroom, heading in Silk’s direction. He didn’t bother to glance at Franny as he maneuvered into the space between Franny and Silk.

  “I can’t believe you finally decided to speak to me. You’re a sometimey broad, you know that?” Tate spoke in a humorous tone.

  “An experienced lady’s man like yourself should understand that being moody is a woman’s prerogative.”

  “You’re something else, Silk,” Tate said with a smile as he beckoned the bartender. “Give the lady whatever she’s drinking.” He nodded at Silk.

  “There’s more than one lady sitting here,” Franny piped in.

  “Yeah, well, I only have eyes for Silk,” Tate retorted.

  “But me and Silk came here together; how you gonna just ignore me?”

  Tate gave Franny a menacing look. “Do I have to smack you in the mouth to get you off my back?”

  Franny flinched and muttered to herself as she pulled another cigarette from the pack that old man, Mr. Blackwell, had bought her.

>   “Why don’t you scram, Franny. Give me and Silk some privacy,” Tate suggested with a sneer. The menace in Tate’s voice prompted Franny to grab her beer and vacate the barstool next to Silk.

  Watching Franny skulk off, mumbling and rolling her eyes, tickled Silk. “You’re a real charmer, Tate,” Silk said with sarcastic laughter.

  “That skank tried to get new with me. She knows damn well I don’t give her the time of day, so why would I buy her a drink?”

  “Can’t blame her for trying.”

  Tate waved his hand dismissively, indicating he was through with the subject. “So, what’s good, Silk? Everybody’s talking about your new ride. I’m parked next to you in the lot. That Caddy is sharp; makes me want to trade in my Thunderbird.”

  “You can’t keep up with me, Tate. So don’t even try.”

  Tate laughed. “You’re probably right. You’re a real humdinger, you know that? And I like your style.” His expression turned serious. “I’d like to get you alone. Do you think you could slip away from Buddy one night this week?”

  “What’s wrong with right now?”

  Wally placed Silk’s drink in front of her, and gazed at Tate as if he wished he were in Tate’s place.

  “Right this moment?”

  “Yeah, no better time than now.” Silk gazed at Tate challengingly.

  Tate rubbed the side of his neck. “I, uh, I have some business to attend to.”

  Silk laughed. “You’re all talk and no action, huh?”

  “I’ve got plenty of action. Give me a few minutes to make some phone calls. I have to rearrange my schedule.” Walking toward the pay phone, Tate glanced over his shoulder and winked at Silk.

  She ran her tongue over her lips.

  CHAPTER 30

  Silk followed Tate to a row house on Tilghman Street. Kids were out in full force, riding bikes and scooters up and down the pavement.

  “Is this where you live?” she asked after parking behind Tate’s car.

  “This is one of my spots.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I’m the curious type.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” he said with a sly grin.

  “Hey, Mr. Tate!” a little boy called from across the street. “Do you need anything from the store?”

  “Not today, Junebug, but I have another job for you. I want you to keep an eye on both these cars—my T-bird and the red Caddy behind it. Make sure none of the kids ride their bikes too close to our cars, and don’t let anyone lean up against them, either.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll guard the cars,” Junebug replied, grinning.

  “All right, little fella. I’ll pay you when I come out.”

  “Okay!” On foot patrol, Junebug paced back and forth between the two convertibles. The little boy, who looked to be around eight or nine, wore a serious expression as he kept guard.

  Inside the neat house, the tiled living room floor was polished to a high shine and there was a faint smell of floor wax, which Silk found rather pleasing. The sofa and chairs were protected with clear plastic covers, giving Silk the idea to have her living room furniture covered to prevent Buddy’s children from wearing out the fabric. She looked around the environment, noticing numerous framed photographs of Tate at various ages that were displayed on the mantel, table tops, and some were hung on walls.

  “Somebody sure loves you. Is this your mama’s house?”

  Tate nodded. “She’s out of town at a social function, and she likes for me to check on the place whenever she’s away from home.”

  Tate took Silk by the hand and led her from the living room to a hallway with shellacked, hardwood floors. As he guided her up the stairs, she admired the paintings of geese in flight that decorated the wall going up the stairs.

  “I’ve been jonesing for you since the day I met you,” he said, embracing Silk at the top of the stairs and covering her mouth with his. Kissing her passionately while reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress, he backed her into a wall in the upstairs hallway. “I have to have you,” he muttered, yanking the bodice of her dress down and then groping with the hooks of her bra.

  Silk helped Tate remove her bra and then she flung it on the floor. The open door of the middle bedroom revealed a well-ordered room with a large bed that beckoned them. But overcome by lust, neither Tate nor Silk could find the strength to make it to the room.

  Tate’s hands roamed over her bare breasts, and Silk’s skin tingled at his touch. She buried her head in his chest, breathing him in as her eager body rubbed against him. He smelled deliciously manly—like soap, a hint of sweat, and aftershave. The ache between her legs demanded attention, and her restless hands whizzed downward and stroked his crotch, creating a hard lump of flesh inside his pants. She urgently struggled to unfasten his pants and take hold of his dick in her trembling hand.

  Her gaze dropped to the throbbing flesh that felt hot against her palm, and a range of desires overwhelmed her. Her tense fingers yearned to fondle his erection, while at the same time, her lips puckered at the sight. It was difficult to resist the urge to draw his beautifully formed appendage inside her mouth and lather it with her tongue. The very core of her body tightened expectantly, craving the sensation of him gliding slowly into her and then upping the tempo with deep, driving strokes that were certain to send her over the edge of madness.

  Not knowing what pleasure to partake in first, Silk was relieved when Tate made the choice for her. With his pants falling past his firm thighs, he eased her down to the floor and mounted her. Hot kisses on her lips persuaded her to arch her back and open her legs for him as wide as possible.

  She’d had many sex partners in her young life, but the way Tate made love to her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Maybe the alcohol that was coursing through her system made her body extra sensitive to his touch. Maybe her body hungered for a skilled lover with finesse. Whatever the case, the sexual connection between Silk and Tate was unlike anything she’d ever known, and she wanted to feel him inside her every day and every night.

  • • •

  When Tate and Silk emerged from his mother’s house, Silk hung on to him with both arms wrapped around his waist, and her head resting on his shoulder, making it clear that she didn’t want to ever let him go.

  Despite having Silk cling to him like a conjoined twin, Tate managed to dig inside his pocket and wrestle out a dollar bill. “Here you, go, Junebug.”

  “Oh, boy! A dollar!” Junebug broke into a toothy grin. “Thanks, Mr. Tate,” he said, scampering off to the corner where the Mr. Softee truck was parked with a flock of children and a few parents standing at the serve window.

  After walking Silk to her car, Tate disentangled himself from her and gave her a kiss. “I’ll see you again tomorrow night, baby. Keep that thing hot for me,” he said with a self-assured smile.

  • • •

  When Silk returned to the Y to pick up Dallas, the child was looking forlorn, sitting on the steps of the building holding her satchel filled with dance attire and swimwear.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, sweetiekins. Were you scared?”

  “A little bit.”

  “Aw.” Silk caressed her hair. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  Dallas nodded.

  “If you want, we can stop by Woolworth and see if the lunch counter is still open. If it’s closed, we can go up the street to John’s Doggie Shop and get ourselves a chili dog. What do you think about that?”

  “I never had a chili dog.”

  “They’re delicious. I had one the other day when I was out joy-riding in my new car.”

  As they approached Silk’s Cadillac, she took Dallas’ satchel and put it in the trunk, and then took her by the hand and continued walking. “No point in moving the car. John’s Doggie Shop is right on the corner of Seventh and Sproul.” Silk pointed in the direction of the hot dog shop. “Those chili dogs are some kind of good, sweetiekins
, especially when they load on the cheese and raw onions.”

  Dallas made a face. “I don’t like onions.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell them to hold the onions on your hot dog.”

  After getting served chili dogs, fries, and Coca-Colas, Silk and Dallas took seats at a round table with high stools that were located in front of a large, picture window. They peered out the window, watching the passersby as they munched on their food.

  “Miss Wickers, my ballet teacher, said I caught on quick. She gave me a solo to perform at the dance recital. Do you know what a solo is, M’dear?” When Silk didn’t respond and continued to stare out of the window dreamily, Dallas went on chattering. “A solo is when you dance all by yourself onstage. I hope I don’t mess up. Miss Wickers said you should buy the record of the music I’m dancing to so I can practice at home. She wrote the name of the song on a piece of paper. It’s in my dance bag.”

  “That’s nice,” Silk said absently. Dallas was talking a mile a minute, and although Silk had hoped that she’d eventually break out of her bashfulness, now was not a good time for the child to be striking up such a lengthy conversation. Silk’s mind was much too preoccupied with thoughts of Tate to pay attention to Dallas’ silly jabbering.

  Reminiscing about the passionate love she and Tate had made caused butterflies to flutter around in her tummy, and a chill ran up her spine.

  That doggone Tate ain’t nothing but trouble, she reminded herself, again. Then she thought about his soft lips and his slow, sensual hands. Mmm. He was the kind of trouble a girl didn’t mind getting into, Silk decided.

  CHAPTER 31

  The food that church members had donated when Silk first arrived was long gone, and Silk had been paying Mrs. Sudler fifteen dollars a week to cook and clean for the Dixon family. For extra money, Mrs. Sudler also kept an eye on Myron, Bruce, and Dallas whenever Silk needed her to.