Chapter 5

Bob Jamison slowly paced across his office at the Black Mountain Citizen. The Margaret Horner drug story was going to need some finesse. Gerald Horner carried weight and wasn't afraid to throw it around. He had to find the right reporter for this story.

His corner office gave Bob an editor's view over the newsroom. He liked to keep a close eye on his reporters, and they knew if they were at their desks they better be working. He gazed over his domain and saw only one reporter available.

His film of Margaret Horner was now down at the photo lab, and it needed at story to go with it. The only unassigned reporter was sitting out in the cluttered newsroom by herself. Wendy Walker was working on the day's obituaries. A wicked feminist he only hired because his publisher ordered him to. She was the publisher's granddaughter. Fresh from the U of Mass. she was a radical feminist out to change the world. She had questioned his views on the feminist cause during her employment interview. It was the shortest interview Bob ever gave-why bother.

The first story he sent her out on was to a school board meeting. He told her to get the agenda and report on the results of the meeting. She ended up getting the attendees riled up with a speech she gave on oppressed women's lack of resources in the high school.

After a lecture from Bob that the media was supposed to report, not take part, she had lectured him that she didn't become a reporter to write about boring school board meetings. She had the publisher's picture on her desk to remind him that she outranked him in the pecking order around here. Later that day he got a call from Marylou Parker, the publisher and concerned grandmother, telling him that Wendy said he was hard to work for. So he set her to writing obituaries with a copy editor editing out any feminist philosophy from the death notices. He was dying to get rid of her, but hadn't thought of any way to do it yet.

He stared at her as she typed the obits. He needed to get her to fuck up badly. Something that even the publisher couldn't ignore, he smiled-something like the Horner story.

He opened his door and yelled, "Walker!" Her head jerked up from the death notices. What now? How much lower can I sink into this male food chain here?

"Get your butt up here!" What a fucking pig.

She walked up to Bob, and he pointed into his office.

"Sit down. I've got an assignment for you."

This piqued her interest, "What about?"

"Margaret Horner got arrested for marijuana possession this afternoon."

Wendy shrugged her shoulders, "Who's that?" She was new to the area. Bob again smiled.

Bob settled back to sit on the edge of his desk. "It's the only daughter of the richest man in town." Bob could see she wasn't impressed. Good, just the attitude I'm looking for. She will have no idea how to handle the hot potato I am giving her.

"Sounds like she got herself into some heavy shit."

Bob stopped at her chair; "I have a photo down at the lab of her in the back of a patrol car. I need a story to go with it. Here are my notes. I was there when they put her in the car. Go talk to Jack Gardner, the principle at the high school, her parents, and some of her friends. Be back at eight with a story."

"Sounds better than writing about dead white men," She seemed unfazed about getting a story this size.

"Listen, Walker, this is a big story. I'm giving you a chance, don't fuck it up."

"What makes you think I'll fuck it up? Bob, do you think a reporter needs balls to get a story? God, you must think you guys are rocket scientists."

Bob held his tongue and sweetly smiled at her. "Not at all, Walker, now take my notes and go figure out whom you have to interview. Bring back what you have at eight and we'll go with that."

Antoinette Horner had just finished her tennis lesson and was taking a shower. Her tennis instructor, Bart Turner, was behind her washing her muscular back. The wife of Gerald Horner liked her men young, hard, and horny. Bart was all three.

She purred, "You know Bart, you don't have to give free showers after every lesson."

He laughed and lathered her firm ass. The woman must play twenty hours of tennis a mouth. She could have been a champion if she was twenty years younger. "And miss out on a chance to wash the hottest ass in the entire club." His foamy hands slithered between her cheeks and washed her little hole.

"God, Bart. Get me clean, baby." His finger stretched her asshole and penetrated her deeply while his other hand soaped up her tits. She used a strong sports bra to tame her 38DD breasts on the court, but in the shower they swayed with her every movement.

She reached back and stroked the long cock that was slapping her leg. "I hear your younger brother is coming to visit again."

He laughed. "You really liked him, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, he was so young and so hard, and such a stud, just like big brother. Was that the first time you two screwed the same woman?"

"Oh, no. I had a girl friend when I was a senior, one night when we really got fucked up. I started making out with her while Skip was still in the room. She fucked both of us. She loved a cock in her pussy and ass, so she kept fucking us until she and I graduated."

"She sounds like a horny little bitch."

"She was. Skip was only thirteen at the time, but she loved his cock in her."

"So did I." Antoinette stroked Bart's cock while thinking of Skipper's.

"Did you like both dicks at the same time in you?"

"God, yes. When you two double fucked me I thought I had died and gone to heaven."

"He'll be here for the week end. How about a sample now?" He pulled back a little and pressed his cock into Antoinette's well-used asshole. She pressed back and relaxed. His cock slid into her easily. She loved anal sex and always let a lover pick his favorite hole.

"Oh, Bart, I wish he was here to give my cunt some loving too Fill my ass, baby." She pressed against the shower wall to help her push back on Bart's fat cock harder.

Bart hit bottom as his low-ridding balls slapped into her pussy lips. "You're a hot bitch with a hotter ass." He pulled back and slammed his long cock back home in the rich bitch's ass. Bart loved turning inside out the rich wives that played at the club. They all need a hard cock, and he was glad to offer his. He never scheduled lessons back to back. He almost always needed a half hour to finish servicing the bitches in his office. Antoinette was a weekly customer.

"Fuck me,... oh, shit, Bart... fuck my ass... fill it with your big dick, baby... fuck my ass, baby." She was getting wild, ramming her ass back hard. He reached around to her clit and rubbed it hard making her shriek with passion. "I'm cumming... Oh, shit... cumming... cum in my ass, you fucker." She screamed and shivered as she climaxed over his cock in her ass.

"Take my cum, you hot bitch... take my load up your tight ass."

Bart faked an orgasm as Antoinette wound down from hers. He couldn't afford to cum in her as he had a lesson right after this with Faye Jamison, the newspaper editor's wife. She was a fat bitch and was trying to learn to play tennis to help her lose weight. Bart had been surprised to find out that she was the nastiest rich bitch he had ever fucked. She may be fat, but she could fuck the cock off a horse. She loved to fuck and I want to save this load for her fat tight ass. He and his brother, the last time he had visited, had doubled fucked her for most of an afternoon in a motel room she rented for them.

His brother still talked about it. He thought his brother had, after her, developed a thing for fat chicks. He bragged to Bart that after fucking Faye he had taken out a two hundred pound fifteen-year old virgin last weekend and had filled all her holes in the backseat of his car.

Antoinette was pulling up her panties when her cell phone range. Bart watched her tits sway as she bent over and picked it up from her purse on the floor.

She saw the number was Gerald's phone. "Gerry, what's up?"

"Maggie's in jail, for possession of marijuana."

"No, I don't believe it."

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm just getting dressed after playing tennis."

"Okay, I'm on my way to the jail to bail her out. Why don't you meet us at home?"

"Okay, I'm leaving right now."

"Good, I'll see you at home."

She closed up the cell phone, "I've got to go, Bart." She began rapidly dressing. "I'll see you in a few days."

He kissed her and replied, "Remember Skipper's in for the weekend."

"I wouldn't miss it, baby."

Wendy Walters, the owner of the Margaret Horner story decided to go under cover. People, she knew, held back when they talked to newspaper reporters. A trip home outfitted Wendy with a pair of sweat pants and a crop top tee shirt that showed off her pierced navel. She dug into the back of a dresser drawer and found a bra. Her 34A sized tits didn't really need one, but she put one on thinking high school girls still wore the outdated underwear. She found a book bag in the back of a closet and stuffed it with a few books and a jacket to fill out the space.

A stop at a mirror and her long hair turned into two black pigtails. She scrubbed her face and looked at the effect. Seventeen or eighteen easy, I should pass easily for a high school student.

A phone call to the office had informed her that the high school got out at 3:45. She wanted to be just walking into the building when the students hit the halls on the way home. She parked in the lot and waited.

Wendy walked into the front door as the closing bell sounded, stepping into place next to a boy who looked like a geek. She touched his arm, and said, "You're kinda cute. What's your name?"

He boy stumbled at the compliment. "Me?"

Wendy smiled on the outside. "Yeah, you. You're kind of cute."

"Me."

"Yeah, don't girls tell you this every day?"

"Me?, no." He looked her over and knew she was way over him socially and sexually.

"Did you hear about Margaret Horner getting busted for pot? I'm Amy Johnson." She held out her hand.

"I am David Burg. Yeah, I heard."

"So you think she's guilty?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. She's a... bitch, if you don't mind me saying that."

"Not at all. What did she ever do to you?"

"She makes nasty comments to kids who are different from her, lower down the social ladder."

"What did she ever say to you?"

"She called me a fucking geek more than once. Shithead, fuckwad. She is a bitch. Most of the people around her are glad she got busted."

"Do you know if she smokes pot?"

"Not, personally, I wouldn't be surprised, but I don't hang around in her crowd."

"Who runs around with her?"

"I've seen Brett Butler, he's her boyfriend now, Linda Potter, Karin Barnett, and she was Brett's last girlfriend. Margaret's a cheerleader so she hangs around all the athletes, too."

"Wow, thanks, Dave. Would you like to go get a pizza later?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, why don't I meet you over at the Pizza Hut on Main at seven?"

"Uh,... sure. I'll be there."

"Great, see ya, then." What a fucking pig. I hope he sits there all night waiting for me.

Wendy spent another hour walking around the school talking to students and teachers. I got some good shit here. I hope all those boys I'm meeting at seven sit around and watch each other jerk off after I don't turn up at the Pizza Hut.

Jackson Williams knocked on Miss Ferndez's door.

"Come in."

The handsome senior opened the door and walked into his counselor's office. He shut the door and sat down.

Nelia Ferndez looked over her best student. He's going places. He's smart and very handsome. His black skin gleams in the bright room light. His tight jeans bulge nicely. Mrs. Ferndez cleared her mind. "Jackson, how can I help you today?"

"Mrs. Ferndez, I need help in writing my essay for my MIT application. I think I can handle the writing, but I'm looking for something a little extra, something that would make them look at my application."

"Jackson, I would be happy to help you. Can I see it?"

He handed over the file folder and Mrs. Ferndez opened it and read his effort. The counselor had trouble concentrating. She was sure he was staring at her. She didn't dare look up for fear of meeting his dark brown eyes. Reading through his essay she went back to the beginning three times as she was losing her thoughts before she could finish.

Finally, she is able to gather her concentration to finish. "Jackson, this is a good effort, but you need to use more colorful phrasing; don't be afraid to be more descriptive. Make up descriptions if you have to, but it needs juice."

He reached out to take the folder from her. Her eyes traced every line on his hand. The small wrinkles of his young hand become a burning memory.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ferndez. Could I come back tomorrow and let you read my corrections?"

She should have stood up when he left, but she was trembling. "Yes, of course, just stop by at the same time tomorrow."

He left her office, and she leaned her head on her desk and sobbed. Her life was crumbling. Her husband of twenty-years lived in front of a television and drank beer after beer. Her son had graduated from Black Mountain last year and her daughter was a senior. She realized that the young man was dangerous. He had an aura of sexuality, something she hadn't tasted in months.

She sobbed into a tissue and thought about Jackson Williams helping her find some of that sensuality she craved.

The Chief showed up at the school at a little past four. He waited in the outer office looking Allison over. She was in her forties he knew, but she was one fine woman. Her tits weren't very big, but she had a fine figure. He was imagining her bent over the desk as he lifted that skirt she was wearing up over her ass. Pulling her panties down to her knees he ran his hand over her fine ass. He pulled his hand back and slapped her right cheek hard. She screamed in pain and a red handprint blossomed on the cheek.

"Chief... Chief... Chief!" Allison broke his fantasy, as she kept getting louder. He realized he was now carrying a boner. He stood up, but she didn't notice. Almost no one would have, as the Chief was not noted for his police equipment.

"Mr. Gardner will see you now."

He stood up and gave her a look that left her feeling a bit afraid and dirty. Jack opened the door and waved the Chief inside.

"What's up? Is she still in jail?"

"No, her old man showed up with his lawyer, Al Johnson. They screamed about how we'd fucked up when we arrested his little girl. He called his friend Judge Davis and he made bail in the lobby. The girl came out of the lock up and went home with him. She had calmed down a lot and wasn't screaming she was not guilty. The arraignment is tomorrow."

"So, Chief, what are you here for?"