Chapter 3

Please allow me to re-introduce myself as this part of the story has been delayed due to technical difficulties.

My name is Doris Night.

I run the only funeral parlor taking care of most of the white folks on the “white side” of Needles, California and am the only female member of the city council and usually the minority vote for anything that infringes on the “Good Old Boy” network that runs rampant in most of California politics both urban and rural in nature. In California, apart from the Teacher’s Union and the Governmental sector, almost all decisions are done by old white men regardless of which political party they represent.

We had us a serial killer preying on single white women with accelerating frequency and the fifty percent of the population that is female are running scared and asking lots of questions of the powers that be about what the fuck are we going to do about it to make them safe to walk down the street at night.

My business was picking up lately but it was from the Chinese Plague that hit the whole country like a ton of bricks right out of the blue when things were looking up for the Trump followers what with the booming economy and all.

A couple of times I had to send a truck to a nursing home to pick up the body bags instead of just an ambulance or a hearse like the normal procedure. Those places were all skirting bankruptcy before the end of the year.

Then, we got a hot one found over by the homeless encampment under the bridge over the river that split the town into two parts like uncompleted wall that Trump started four years ago.

This one had her fingers removed along with her teeth making identification difficult at best.

Still, it was obvious she was not a homeless person and she was most likely from the white side of town due to her skin color and her upscale clothing that included French undies that were ripped in the back where the killer had taken his jollies in her posterior entryway.

Forensics told us it was done post-mortem meaning the guy was delving into the filthy fetish world of necromancy in addition to his other faults.

We got lucky because one of the morgue employees recognized the woman as the owner of the “Meat Market” girlie bar on the other side of the river. I decided just to thank the flustered man instead of asking him how he knew all about the girlie bar that had been the scene of some recent dispatches due to altercations with unruly customers.

Her name was Mrs. Robinson and she lived only a block from my apartment although I had never seen her face before to the best of my recollection.

I wondered who she might have pissed off to the point that she took it all the way up the ass even after death from some psycho serial murderer and dumped in place where she would be easily found by local authorities. It was almost like a slap in the face of the powers that be adding insult to injury at the same time.

To some extent, I guess that meant me, because everyone knew I was running for Mayor in the next city election in a few short months. My signs were all set up and my folks were beating the bushes to find campaign dough and volunteers to ensure my anticipated easy win.

I took a couple of police dicks with me to the titty bar and they were all smiles interviewing the employees about Mrs. Robinson and if she had any enemies we needed to focus on as persons of interest. I found myself sitting across from a brown-skinned female with huge jugs that told me her name was Tiffany but her real name was really Honey Lopez and she lived in a bad part of town. She kept stroking her tits and crossing and uncrossing her legs like she had the Saint Vitus dance and didn’t know how to stop her constant motion. Each time she uncrossed her legs she gave me a front row seat view of her pretty pink pussy and shaven feminine folds because she had no undies on her gorgeous body. I guess their motto of “all nude, all the time” was a fact and not just a come-on for the curious customers.

Tiffany broke off the interview to go up on the stage and do a five-minute dance on the shining silver pole that looked dangerous and lonely without a girl swinging on it like a monkey in a zoo. I had to admit it was interesting to look at the upside-down pussy all sticking out like an offering to the Gods.

I followed Tiffany back to the dressing room watching her ass cheeks quivering like a bowl full of Jello. She looked over her shoulder at me smiling a cute little smile that told me she was more than willing to get me happy in a hurry. I was not much into the female to female thing simply because I had no time and my last such attempt had resulted in a broken heart that lasted the better part of a year.

Still when she offered me her lips in the hallway, I felt obligated to accept because she had been more than cooperative. In all honesty, her body and personality turned me on making my pussy feel like I was on fire and rushing to be saved by a first responder. A female fireman with a sweet tasting pussy instead of a demanding cock that forced me to submit without question.

She pulled me into the deserted dressing room and pushed my head down to her cunt telling me, “You know you want to taste me, honey!”

Her scent was all strawberries and I love strawberries best of all.