Sally, now several weeks into therapy, was discussing her sexual history with Dr. Albers. Her early and subsequent actions followed a pattern of rebellion, self abasement, exhibitionism and carelessness. Seeing a possible catalyst in her family dynamics they began there.

Her parents, a lawyer and a high school teacher, were loving and nurturing parents yet she found her upbringing stifling. Outwardly liberal in all their views, they were status conscious snobs. Their disapproval of her friends and contempt for her high school boyfriend, Peter, made leaving home for college a liberating moment. Three months after leaving she was a nude dancer at a low-rent strip club and involved in a torrid affair with a fellow dancer, partly acted out on stage. Then there was Lamont.   

At an end of semester frat party she noticed him looking her way several times during the night. Lamont was the campus drug dealer; his primary product was Jamaican pot but he would get you whatever you wanted. Fortyish, muscular and tattooed with dreadlocks halfway down his back he stood out in the otherwise all-white teenage college crowd.

A popular figure on campus with a reputation for his interest in college girls, Sally wasn’t surprised when he approached her,  but when he said. “Hi, Lolita”, she was absolutely gobsmacked. It had been six months since her last dance at City Lights and she thought the whole thing was in the past.

When he asked if she still worked there all she could come up with was, “That was a while ago.” Sensing her discomfort he went no further and segued to small talk. Before excusing himself to attend to his frat boy clients he whispered in her ear that he thought she was beautiful and handing her his card he turned and left:

Lamont Brown

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Her relief at his gentlemanly handling of the situation was palpable, and she liked him.

Back at her class work and sorority activities she would occasionally glance and touch the card, now sitting on her desk. She hadn’t been with anybody since her brief and intensely sexual affair with one of the other dancers at City Lights. Was she ready? As the days passed she found herself thinking and fantasizing more and more about this man. Black, possessing an element of danger and roughly charming, he was catnip for her. He had probably seen her naked, on stage, playing with her pussy for the amusement of a bunch of horny men, so she didn’t have to pretend she was some kind of shrinking violet. Calling him would be an unambiguous signal that she was ready for whatever he had in mind. She reached for the phone.

Lamont picked up on the first ring and when she introduced herself as Lolita he said, “Hello beautiful. I was hoping you’d call.” Sally then thanked him for being so thoughtful that night at the party, he had caught her completely by surprise.

“I always try to be nice to pretty girls,” was his reply. He then asked what else was on her mind. 

“You’re on my mind,” was her reply. They arranged to meet at Club Caribe, a West Indian hangout in Roxbury, not exactly a great part of town but it was, in a way, part of her fantasy.

“Wear something pretty,” were his final words.

Rummaging through her closet she found her shortest skirt, a halter top and a pair of sexy heels. “Pretty”,  meant skimpy and sexy. He’d like this outfit; she didn’t bother with underwear. Getting into the shower she decided to shave her pussy, something she hadn’t done in some time. She always liked the way that looked and felt, she was sure Lamont would feel the same way.  

It was about a forty-five minute drive and she was lucky to find a parking spot nearby. Walking around Roxbury at night was not exactly the safest thing to do, especially for a white woman dressed as she was. When they asked her for ID at the door, as she was only eighteen, she told them she was there to see Lamont. That was all it took, he was obviously a known commodity.

Dark, smokey, and loud she was the only white person in the place and created a bit of a stir as she looked for Lamont. She found him in a back booth with three other men and an older woman. He stood to greet her and asked her to turn around so he could look at her. The skirt barely covered her ass and her heels made her shapely legs go on forever. He pulled her close and kissed her; she delighted in the feel of his hard body.

She slid in the booth as Lamont poured her a beer and introduced her to his friends, two of whom said they’d heard a lot about her. I bet they have, she thought. When Lamont put his hand on her knee she spread her legs, inviting him in; she also jacked her skirt up a bit, giving the guy on her right, James, a full view of their sex play.

Lamont was drinking beer with his left hand and working her pussy with his right, and she was soon dripping. Taking her by the hand he led her to the men’s room in the rear of the club, bent her over the sink and gave her a pounding unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her vocalizations attracted a small audience of voyeurs who were happy to see this pretty white girl getting fucked by a black man. Back at the table everyone had a big laugh when Lamont said Sally was now Jamaican by injection. 

More beer, snacks, three hours of pawing and Lamont was ready for another session. Leading her into the men’s room he stripped her naked and unbuckled his pants. She eagerly got on her haunches and took him in her mouth. She loved giving head, referring to it as her dirty pleasure. Once again she then found herself bent over the sink for an encore performance by her black lover.  At closing time, Lamont walked her to her car and said goodnight. They didn’t engage in a lot of conversation; it wasn’t really necessary. 

 A week or so later, while studying at the school library, she couldn’t dismiss thinking about Lamont and what she would like to be doing with him. Her thoughts kept returning to the night at Club Carib. Being naked and getting fucked from behind by a big black man in a dumpy men's room while people looked on was a sex fantasy made reality; she wanted more. Asking permission to use the phone at the main desk she called him.

“Hello beautiful,” was his reply after she identified herself.

“Guess what I’ve been thinking about?” she seductively asked. 

Lamont laughed and said he’d been thinking about her too. He was making a delivery on campus and he could pick her up in a half hour or so if she wanted. Yes, he knew where the library was. Right on time, he pulled up in his sporty BMW. She apologized for not wearing “prettier” clothes, her bag, though, now contained her pantyhose, panties and bra. He told her she looked great.

As they silently drove to Roxbury he looked over at this pretty college girl. Her blouse, carelessly buttoned, afforded him an enticing view of her breasts.  He loved her slender, athletic body. Unlike the others, and there were many, she also didn’t engage in small talk about his life. She didn’t care about Jamaica, Rastafarianism or anything about his life, she just wanted to get fucked. They were going, he said to his club: The Roxbury Cricket Association. 

The RCA was a storefront with apartments above in a mostly abandoned strip mall. Inside was a giant photo of Haile Selassie, several Jamaican flags and, much to her surprise, dozens of photos of men playing cricket. There was also a bar, small bandstand, pool table and about a dozen booths occupied by Creole-speaking Rastafarian drug dealers and their female companions. The smell of marijuana was pervasive. Everybody knew Lamont and everybody was intensely interested in his young companion.

They grabbed a booth by the back door and Lamont went to the bar for drinks. He returned with two friends who joined them in the booth. “Here’s the girl I told you about,” he said as he introduced his dreadlocked friends. Aaron, one of the men, produced a large blunt and they fired up and began smoking. Lamont told her she’d like this, it wasn't like the crap he sold to her college friends, this was Jamaican Gold.

Having limited experience with pot smoking she took a large draw and began choking. Her companions found it amusing and cautioned her to take smaller bites. Her next few tokes went smoothly and before long she was feeling the effects. It created a feeling of blissfulness and a sense that everything she cared about would work in her favor. It also heightened her already potent sexual yearnings. She then became uncharacteristically chatty.

 “So just what did Lamont say about me?” she asked.

They all laughed and Aaron replied that, “Lamont said you have a great body and you like Jamaican sausage.” More laughs.

“He also say, you like pumpum and that you enjoy putting on a show,” added Burgress, Lamont’s other friend, as he was enjoying the view of her exposed breasts. She surely enjoyed pumpum but as she started massaging the lump in Lamont’s pants tonight she was interested in sausage. Lamont felt he could probably bend her over the table and fuck her right there if he wanted; she would have liked that.

Instead, he took her by the hand out the backdoor and upstairs to the crash pad above the club. It was a dump, half the place was used as a workspace for their drug activities and the other two rooms had sorry-looking mattresses and empty bottles strewn about. While Lamont looked for a sheet or blanket Sally undressed. He wanted to see what she was like in bed. He also wanted to touch her and he wanted to taste her; she looked divine. Flawless white skin, toned, lithe body and that beautiful red hair… 

He laid her down on the bed and spread her legs. Her thighs were the softest thing he had ever touched and her young pussy was delightfully warm and damp. The lingering effects of the pot and Lamont’s ravenous appetite for her put her in a dream world of boundless pleasure.   

Sensing she was close to orgasm he laid down next to her and began caressing her body; he wanted to touch every inch of her. She then straddled and began to slowly and sensually ride him. Lamont was taken by her beautiful face, now flushed with a look of rapture. They shared a mutual climax and collapsed in each other’s arms. 

A knock on the door disturbed their reverie as Burgess entered the room with a message for Lamont. Saying they needed him downstairs, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sally. When she joined him downstairs, he said he had business to attend to and handed her a fifty dollar bill for a cab home. She found his attitude and the fifty dollars for a five dollar cab ride kind of disdainful, but she had few pretensions about their relationship.

A few days later she was home for spring break and her father’s fiftieth birthday party. She hadn’t seen her parents or her goody two shoes sister for several months and was enjoying the time with them; the party was another matter. Set for the local country club where she had spent a good deal of her youth, she now saw it as pretentious and offensive. It was a place her parents never once invited Peter or his family to while she was a frequent guest at their home. Dread might have been overly dramatic but she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Arriving a little late, she smoked half of a joint Lamont had given her before making her entrance. She saw Mr. McCann, their next door neighbor and her father’s golf buddy, who she’d caught peeping at  her from his upstairs bedroom window while she undressed. Mrs. Vitale, the swim team coach, who always hung around the locker room after meets, leering at her young charges as they showered, gave her a big hug and a kiss. Tending bar was Henry Timmons, the tennis pro, who spent four years trying to get her out of her tennis whites. They’d all be shocked beyond belief if they knew she was stoned on pot given to her by her Rastafarian lover. On a certain level, she wished they knew what kind of things she had recently done with this man who, if he showed up within a half mile of the club, would probably be arrested. She wished she was naked in his bed. 

Back in Boston she called Lamont and after some provocative dirty talk about Jamaican sausage she suggested they go to one of the more popular dance clubs around town. He thought he knew what was on her mind. Most of the other white girls he had  were reluctant to be seen with him in their genteel element. He knew she pursued him out of her rebellious nature. She wanted to shock people; so did he. They decided on “The Grand” a wildly popular spot near the harbor. She purchased a little tube skirt, a new pair of come fuck me heels and big hoop earrings especially for the outing. He'd pick her up at ten on Friday.

Arriving at eleven pm the door guy picked them out for entrance, but when Sally couldn’t produce an ID it created a problem that was solved by a palm-greasing twenty dollar bill. It appeared as if Lamont was the only black person in the whole club. He and his minx-like companion drew a lot of attention. It was just the thing Sally was hoping to get.

At the bar, he ordered a beer and, being cautious, a Coke for Sally. The difference between them was in every way startling. His dark skin, rough features and deadlocks were in direct contrast to this slender, red haired, well groomed little tart.  Mixed race couples will frequently draw disapproving attention especially when it’s a black man, like Lamont, with a pretty white woman. And when that woman is very young and openly displays affection for that black man it draws a lot of attention.

Lamont knew this, as did Sally; that’s why they were in this place. Lamont caressed her bare shoulders as they nuzzled and kissed. When they got on the dance floor it was hard for Sally to keep her little dress from riding up and she didn’t care. She was drawing the attention she craved, they found her shameless; that was exactly the impression she wanted to give. For Lamont it was similar; he was very conscious of the resentful looks they drew. As he rubbed her ass he wanted them all to know that before long this little doll would be on her knees sucking his big black cock. 

Through with shocking the Back Bay gentry they smoked a joint as they headed for the more friendly environs of Club Caribe. Once inside the club,  a very aroused Sally led the way to the men’s room where she pulled her dress over her head, spread her legs and bent over offering herself to her black lover. They once again drew an audience, eager to see Lamont’s white girlfriend getting fucked. She wished the disapproving snobs at “The Grand” could see her now. Lamont gave her what she was looking for, plus some.

Grabbing a table they ordered drinks and some Jamaican snacks. After a bit Lamont began talking about how all his friends thought she was beautiful. When he asked her if she ever had sex with customers at City Lights she answered, “Not really.” 

“Not really”, for Sally, meant that while she didn’t have intercourse or perform oral sex she did a variety of other income producing things. Lamont understood “Not really” to mean sometimes. Returning to his friends' feelings for her he said they’d probably pay a fortune to have sex with her. She immediately caught what he was getting at; he wanted her to become an income source. Laughing it off, she hid her emotions the rest of the evening and was happy when he dropped her off at her dorm.

Several weeks later she saw a news item that police had raided the Roxbury Cricket Association and arrested a number of members on drug and firearms violations, Lamont among them.