THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCY

by MIMI WILDE

  She walked around his desk and took his head and pressed his face against her breasts.

  “I want you to concentrate on work,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “When we are in private, call me Miss Lloyd.”

  “Yes, Miss Lloyd,” he said.

  God, it felt hot.

  “Stand up,” she said.

  She took his chair. The boss’s chair. He stood in front of her as she settled down. It was absolutely the last thing she ever expected to happen, but it seemed as if Troy was mostly reputation. Down deep where it counted he wasn’t tough. Or tough enough.

  “You’ve been fucking Sylvia every day,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re making her really happy. Now I want you to make me happy.”

  “Anything, Lucy.”

  It was still all new to her. She was on an incredible power rush. The country boys of Fort Bell Alabama did not service women. It was unheard of. But she had already convinced Eddie. She wondered if Troy would give in.

  For her, it wasn’t about sexual release.

  It was power.

  She slipped her skirt up to her waist and waited. He looked at her for a moment as if he couldn’t believe what she was asking. She thought he would refuse. But then he eased down on his knees and he moved closer. He didn’t move. He seemed transfixed being so close. She ran a hand over his nearly bald head.

  “Take my panties off,” she said.

  He finally moved. He tugged her panties down her legs. She let them dangle on one foot as he moved back between her legs.

  “Come on, baby,” she spoke soothingly. “Make me happy. You know you want to do it.”

  He gave very little resistance as she tugged his face between her legs. His tongue touched her moist nether lips and she shivered. Once his tongue touched her, he seemed to cave in. He started licking up and down her slit, taking her juices more tingles of pleasure went through her body. She stoked the top of his hips with her fingertips.

  Then she gasped as his tongue slid inside her. She humped up against his face, wanting it again. He gave into her, his tongue probing her insides and tasting her juice.

  She gently pulled his head back and looked down into his eyes.

  “Ask me,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Beg to eat my pussy. You want to be my little man-whore, don’t you? Beg to eat me. Beg, you little sniveling bastard.”

  What was wrong with her? The sensed of sexual power surged through her just as she had felt when she lost control with Sylvia. She suddenly wanted to crush him between her legs, to shove her pussy so hard into his face that he choked.

  “Please,” he said.

  “Please what,” she said. “Say, please, I want to eat your pussy, Miss Lloyd.”

  She almost came with the words. Her wet juices flowed, smearing his face.

  “Please let me eat your pussy, Miss Lloyd,” he said.

  She pulled his face brutally back between her legs. His tongue stabbed desperately into her. She rocked on his chair as he thrust, and felt another hot, violent surge of excitement when she heard him gasp for breath. She gave him little mercy.

  She demanded of him what he had demanded of Sylvia. His tongue thrusting inside her was better than she expected. It was not as good as Digger’s cock, but it was damned good. And it made it all the better because she knew Troy was ashamed of himself for doing it.

  “Eat me,” she gasped. “Eat me. Faster.”

  She had not expected to come this way, but it was happening. Deep down she felt a wicked excitement rising to the surface. She felt like an erupting volcano, burning lava fires that would soon gush into his open mouth. It was like being ripped from inside out and when she came, she closed her strong, firm thighs tightly around his face and humped hard until was choking on her juice. He swallowed for a long time until she came down from the heights with a soft, satisfied sigh.

  “That’s a really good boy,” she said, patting him on the head. “That’s a really good boy.”

  11.

  On Saturday morning she drove out to Hopewell to see her mother. She was pleasantly surprised at her mother’s condition. Her mother had lost five pounds, at least. Her skin looked clear and she wore a clean, cotton dress. She did not smell of alcohol.

  When she drove up, her mother was on the porch in a rocker. For the first time in a long while, her mother recognized her. She saw a furtive guilt cross her mother’s face.

  “Hello Lucy,” her mother said.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Sober,” her mother said. “Human.”

  ‘I’m glad,” Lucy said.

  She could honestly not remember the last time she had a real conversation with her mother. A very short time after her father’s death, her mother started changing. It seemed like overnight her mother had started drinking herself into oblivion every night.

  “It looks very nice here,” Lucy said.

  “It is nice,” her mother said. “They’ve been very good to me. They give me medicine when it gets too bad.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  Her mother abruptly stood up. She said she wanted to show Lucy the garden. Lucy followed her mother around the house and into the back. It was the wrong time of the year for blooms, and the garden looked sort of forlorn. But it was a quiet place with several fountains and comfortable benches. At the far end of the garden, her mother sank down on her knees on brown grass in front of a fish pond. Lucy sat on the bench nearby.

  “I wanted to be a good mother to you,” her mother said.

  “You were,” Lucy insisted.

  “Your father was a good man but he left no insurance and the farm was in dept.”

  “I know all that, Momma.”

  “I went to see a man I thought could help. He was an elder in the church. He was a friend of your father’s. He said he would help. He would give me money, but I’d have to give him something in return. I was shocked when he told me what he wanted. I told him I wasn’t a whore. But there was no money, and no food and we were going to lose our home, and I did what he wanted.”

  “Oh, Momma,” Lucy said.

  “And then he came around with some friends and after that, it was easier if I just drank to forget. And I kept drinking and the men kept coming around.”

  Lucy left the bench and kneeled beside her mother. She put her arm around her frail shoulders.

  “I love you, Momma,” Lucy said.

  “I don’t know why,” her mother said.

  “Who was the man” Lucy said. “The one you went to first. The one who came around with his friends?”

  “Digger Wynn,” her mother said.

  …..

  Digger waited for her in the cottage. He sat on the couch watching a basketball game. Without asking, she went into the kitchen area and opened him another beer. She poured it into a glass and then poured a glass of white wine for herself. She took the drinks out and settled beside him on the couch. She kicked her shoes off and folded her feet up under her on the couch.

  She was surprised at how calm she was. Inside she was seething with rage. Digger Wynn was the bastard who had ruined her life in so many ways, and yet he was also the one with the money and power. Somehow she would find a way to pay the bastard back, but for now she needed to keep calm and in control of herself.

  “You want me to make you something to eat,” she said.

  “You mean you can cook?”

  “I’m a farmer’s daughter,” she said. “Of course I can cook.”

  “Well, nothing fancy,” Digger said. “I’m the steak and potatoes type.”

  “I was pretty certain of that,” she said.

  “And change clothes,” Digger said. “Put on something sexy. Something tight and short. Something that shows off your tits. Hose and heels.”

  “Are we going out somewhere?” Lucy asked

  “No. I’ve got someone coming over. We’re going to talk business
but it helps to have a pretty woman around to distract.”

  So now she was a paid distraction. She shrugged her shoulders and went into the bedroom and picked out an outfit she thought would meet with Digger’s approval. She took a quick shower and dressed. She chose the red stilettos.

  He approved her choice of red wine for the supper, and they sat in the alcove by the kitchen. He was a good eater and she was pleased he enjoyed her cooking.

  “You told the truth,” Digger said. “You are a damn good cook.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  At the end of the meal the doorbell rang.

  “Here he is,” Digger said. “Go and answer the door. And stay with us. This guy is a bit of a clown. Stay with us for the meeting. Cross your legs a lot. Show him plenty. Keep him thinking about you and not business.”

  Digger was a pig, but there was no choice. She had bargained with the devil

  The man who opened the door was not someone she knew. He was fairly average looking, with carefully styled black hair and intelligent brown eyes. He wore an expensive blue suit that was not off the rack of any local department store. He wore thick glasses that gave him an owlish effect as he stared at her.

  And he did stare at her. His mouth opened and he swallowed nervously. For a moment she thought he was going to turn and run away.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He swallowed again. “Uh, I’m Adam Pease. I have an appointment with Mr. Wynn.”

  “Hello. I’m Harold Walsh. I have an appointment with Mr. Wynn.”

  His voice was soft, cultured. His accent was almost non-existent but it definitely was eastern and not southern.

  “Please come in,” she said.

  She wondered what business Digger could have with a man like Pease, but she found out quickly. Pease was an accountant. He evidently worked out of some office in Birmingham, and not one of Digger’s usual circle of acquaintances. Peace carried an expensive leather briefcase and he took out file after file. She sat across from them and crossed her legs. Pease glanced at her and swallowed.

  Digger had seen the quick look, and he was smiling.

  Bait, Lucy thought. I’m bait for whatever financial shenanigans Digger is up to. And this seemingly nice young accountant was about to have his balls toasted in one of Digger’s financial fires. Adam Pease was not in Digger’s league.

  “Hey, doll, get us some crackers or something, and some more beer.”

  She knew it was more for the young accountant’s benefit. Digger wanted him to see her walk away, the tight fitting skirt hugging her ass. It evidently worked. The young mans seemed ill at ease when she returned. She sat across from them again and this time she parted her legs slightly. She knew Adam Pease was looking between her legs, hoping for her to spread her legs wider. Instead she crossed them again and saw his look of disappointment.

  Neither of them took the crackers but Digger drank half a glass of beer. His face was florid and he was more animated than usual. She wondered if the alcohol could get to him. Up until then Digger seemed to be able to consume copious amounts of beer and wine without showing it. Perhaps he had finally reached his limit.

  She tugged the hem of her skirt higher almost to her thighs. Adam Pease swallowed nervously.

  Even the nice guys are perverts, she thought.

  Their conversation continued on into the early hours of the morning. A yellow scratch pad, a sheet of graphs, and a scratch pad covered the coffee table. She was able to keep up with some of the conversation. It was about money. Digger wanted to do something he didn’t have the funds for. It seemed more personal than anything to do with the tannery. Evidently Pease had loaned money to Digger before.

  It seemed odd that Digger would discuss his business in front of her, but perhaps it wasn’t so odd. Digger did not really think of her as human. She was his property, a piece of furniture. She wondered if Digger had any real emotions, like love or hate or even guilt. He seemed like a man without conscience.

  “It’s too much money,” Adam Pease finally said. “It’s just too much, Digger. You need real collateral for this.”

  “You could approve it,” Digger insisted. “Look, this is my chance get the tannery off my back and get from under the thumb of my father-in-law. This is a great business investment. You said so.”

  “But it’s a lot of money without collateral,” Pease protested.

  Digger looked frustrated. He saw Pease glance against at Lucy’s legs, and for some reason he smiled. Lucy had a bad feeling.

  “You want her,” Digger said.

  “What?” Pease asked.

  “You want to fuck her? Why don’t you take her in the bedroom? I’ll give her to you. You just sign your name to that little loan paper.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Pease said.

  “I’m very serious,” Digger said. “And I can guarantee she’s the best piece of ass you’ve ever had.”

  Lucy couldn’t claim to be shocked. She was half-expecting it. And she knew she would not be able to refuse Digger. And it wasn’t so awful because she half-liked the quiet and nervous accountant.

  “Go ahead,” Digger insisted. “Take the bitch into the bedroom.”

  She still thought Adam Pease might refuse, but finally he leaned over and signed the paper. He looked a little uneasy. Even though Digger was getting what he wanted, he didn’t look completely happy about it. He wasn’t ready to share her yet, but the money he was getting was more important.

  She stood up and took Adam Pease by the hand and led him into the bedroom. Adam shook with anticipation. She helped him off with his coat. She undid his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt because his hands trembled so badly. He sat on the bed.

  “What’s your name,” he asked.

  “Lucy Lloyd.”

  “Are you his girlfriend?”

  She almost laughed out loud. “I’m his paid companion.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re with a man like that.”

  “I have a job,” she said. “It’s a good job. But jobs are scarce in Fort Bell and a girl either gets married or goes to work as a waitress.” She took a deep breath. “Or she makes a deal with Digger Wynn.”

  “I see. You fuck him and he gives you employment. It seems like he gets the better end of the deal.”

  “Yes.”

  “Take my shoes and socks off, Lucy,” he said.

  She knelt beside the bed and undid his shoelaces and pulled off his highly polished and expensive shoes. She peeled off his socks. He stood and she undid his belt and zipper and tugged his pants down his legs. He lifted each leg so she could pull them off. Carefully holding the creases together, she hung them in the closet beside his coat.

  He wore red silk boxer shorts. She went back on her knees and tugged them slowly down his legs. She left his boxers on the floor as she moved closer to his cock. It was long and thick but not yet hard. It dangled down his leg. She touched it. His skin was feverish. She wrapped her fingers around and stoked and fell it stir

  She lifted his cock and kissed the purplish head.

  “Not yet, Lucy,” he said. “I feel like I’ve been on planes for a week. I came here today straight from the airport. I didn’t even go to my hotel first. I need a shower.”

  “You want me to scrub your back,” she said.

  “That would be nice.”

  Undressed, he was a little pale and flabby from lack of exercise. In the shower soaped him and soaped herself. Then she turned him to face the shower and she scrubbed his back with her big, soapy breasts. She turned him around and did the same to his chest and this time his cock was rock-hard when she touched it. She wrapped her fingers around it and stroked, loving the feeling of it pressing her belly.

  “You have a nice cock,” she said.

  She was actually enjoying herself. It wasn’t the wild, wicked sex she felt with Digger, but it was like a pleasant buzz. Her heart hammered in her chest and she stroked him faster, squeezing tight. His
cock did feel good in her hand.

  He kissed her. She was surprised that he kissed her but she responded, clinging to him tightly, still stroking, and opening her mouth to receive his tongue. Her heart hammered faster.

  He pulled at her wet hair, and she drew back to look into his eyes. His strong hands moved down her back, cupping her ass cheeks.

  “Will you kiss it?” he asked her almost tentatively.

  “I’ll do better than that, baby,” she said.

  When his hands moved up to her shoulders, she went willingly down in front of him. His cock brushed her cheek before she opened her mouth and took him inside. Using her tongue and teeth to caress him, his prick swelled even more in her mouth.

  He wasn’t rough. He allowed her to move her head as she wished, to establish her own rhythm. He only continued to stroke her wet hair as she bobbed her head. His not being rough with her let her relax and his prick was soon sliding into the deepest part of her throat exactly as she had seen Sylvia do so expertly.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned softly. He let her bob her head a few more times and then he tugged her away.

  “Please don’t stop,” he said.

  “I want you in bed, sugar,” she said.

  She wasted little time getting them both of them dried off. In bed he kissed her lips, stabbing his tongue into her mouth. His lips moved down her body, catching one aching, pointy nipple. He bit on it gently and then sucked more of her flesh into his mouth.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she moaned.

  The heat grew inside her, flaming up out of control. Her hips writhed on the bed as he sucked and bit at her nipple and belly. He was a good lover. She thought many women would have been pleased to be in his arms. But somehow she knew it would not completely satisfying for her. She needed the edge that a vulgar man like Digger gave her.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered, urging him on. He came up her body and moved between her legs. His long cock slipped into her easily. His chest pressed down on her breasts. She raised to meet his strokes, sweet fire between her legs. It was still much as she expected.

  He fucked her deeply and hard, and her orgasm was quick but not violent. It left her vaguely dissatisfied. He kept up his strong, steady pace. He slipped his hands underneath her rear and lifted her higher on the bed. His cock went into her deeper and she felt a new stirring, but it wasn’t going to be enough.