anything else containing nerve cells, but a few drops escaped on the way to my stomach and cauterized whatever they landed on.
I maintained an admirable sangfroid. The top of my head came off, my stomach retired to another dimension, I smelled burning flesh, but I maintained an admirable sangfroid. I leaned on the bar to help it stay admirable. Eldine refilled our glasses without exhibiting any ill effects from his own tot. I was not surprised. I happened to know he was weaned on the stuff.
'Slan' ee var'!' offered Eldine as a toast with the next glass. I was partly anesthetized already and felt only excruciating pain this time. I looked at my slightly unfocused watch. Forty-five minutes to go until rendezvous at the Lobster Pot. Time enough to be polite with another glass or two and still hit ETA. I settled on a barstool and eyed the next glass – or it could have been glasses. They breed, you know.
'Got good show! Great girls! Enjoy, yo bastar'!'
A few minutes preview of the entertainment could do no harm. It would be nothing but politeness to catch the early moments. I would still meet my lovely wife in plenty of time.
Eldine roared to the bar.
'Lady an' gennulmen! Da show!'
He switched on an earth shattering boom box and flicked various light switches. Everything in the joint vibrated with a reggae beat as a small stage was illuminated by random colored spotlights. I felt my contact with reality start to fray at the edges.
A figure appeared on the stage. Tall, jet-black, arrogant, breasts thrusting against a full length black peignoir, one athletic thigh visible as the figure posed and waited for undivided attention. It didn't take long for her to get it.
Eldine walked to the stage and looked down at the unmoving woman. With a sudden movement he gripped her gown and ripped it from her body. Naked, she did not move. She sneered back at Eldine contemptuously. He picked up a bucket from behind the tatty curtain.
Eldine raised the bucket over the girl's head and tipped a golden syrup over her. The smell of Barbudan honey filled the room. Honey ran down her body, flowing over her head and her breasts and her belly and her buttocks, flowed between her legs and down her thighs. She raised one breast to her lips and slowly licked then sucked her nipple. The room vibrated with the visceral music.
I reached for the rum bottle.
'…And that was when I discovered pre-nuptial agreements, Jay, sweetie. I really must give you my attorney's number. It seems you're in dire need of some sensible advice from a nice strong father figure…'
The Black Widow prattled on as we wandered down a shady side street, seeking refuge from the powerful heat of the midday sun.
'Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Goldfinkel. I assure you that my heart has always belonged to Daddy. Where are we, incidentally? This is beginning to look a little unsalubrious.'
'Oh! Oh! You are a naughty girl! I've been quite distracted by your silly feminist notions and now we've gone and got ourselves lost.'
Feminist notions indeed! If she only knew just how deeply the concept of a nice strong father figure resonated in my psyche (not to mention my spanking fetish). I rummaged in my basket for a street-map but realized that I must have left it behind on the ship. Oh well. It simply added a new angle to sightseeing. The rude, rough underbelly of a Caribbean isle. I thought of big black men with cocks like Arab stallions and wondered whether there was somewhere we could go to watch a show. After all, I had purchased my rock and there was still a little time before we had to meet Harry for afternoon tea. My nipples rubbed pleasurably against the flimsy cotton of my summer dress. I wasn't wearing any underwear, for twin reasons of heat and horn, and I thought of a dark skinned native unbuttoning my frock and exposing my tender pale flesh to the scorching rays of the midday sun.
'Mmmm…'
'Taxi! Come along, Jay. We'll take this cab to The Lobster Pot.'
A rather rickety looking taxi shuddered to a halt at the Black Widow's frantic wave. I remembered Harry's tales of white-knuckle cab rides with deaf, blind and merely psychotic drivers, and stuck out my chin in determination. I don't let just anyone boss me around. Besides, I'd made up my mind to score before tea. Male or female, the gender didn't matter, but they had to be big and black. Fortunately, I seemed to be in the right place for both. Mrs. Goldfinkel's plump pink-clad bottom disappeared into the back seat of the cab and I blew her a kiss.
'Don't worry, Gigi. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I just want to see the other side of this tropical paradise. Do my own little rough guide.'
'Harry will be very cross!'
I doubt that very much, Mrs. G.
The taxi coughed twice and rattled off in a dense cloud of blue smoke. I hoped the Black Widow would survive the ride. It really did seem safer to walk. One hour to catch me something dark and tasty. Suddenly desperately horny, I strode off down the street, doing my best to look as if I knew exactly where I was heading. The docks, apparently, going by the general ambiance and a couple of cranes against the skyline.
'Hi there, honey!'
A couple of prostitutes lounged on the peeling front steps of a once brightly painted but now shabby house. One of them had a gold front tooth. Their skin shone dully in the dazzling sunshine. I smiled and waved gaily in response. Once upon a time, I was a call girl known as Fleur Delice, specializing in making old men happy. I admired the girls' large breasts, clearly defined through their tight cropped tops. I didn't want to have to pay so I passed on, blowing them a little kiss.
Tattoo parlors, cheap cafes, fish filleting and diesel sales. I began to be aware of eyes following my progress. There were sailors everywhere. Ooh, I say! It looked like my ship had come in. He was big and he was black and he wore a crisp white uniform. I gazed up, up, up at his smiling face.
'Excuse me, ma'am. Would you happen to be able to direct me to an establishment called The Watering Hole? I'm new to this town and my friends have gone on ahead.'
'Why, certainly, young man. In fact, I was just going there myself. The rum punch is quite outstanding.'
I bluffed like mad, quickly slipping one arm through the sailor's and instinctively setting off in the general direction of a faint but throbbing beat. My escort gave me a rather perturbed look but I pressed on regardless. The poor boy was probably shy. Maybe it was his first time. I scanned his features for signs of a date stamp. Twenty, perhaps? Ooh, a toy boy. I love older men but the odd piece of fresh young flesh makes an interesting change. They have nothing to say but their hormones are rampant.
'What's your name, dear? I'm Jay.'
The young man cleared his throat. He really was nervous.
'Um, Leroy, ma'am. Leroy Biggin.'
I couldn't help myself. This was too much!
'Biggin, did you say? Why, Mr. Biggin, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. You can call me Miss Bazookas.'
The chap didn't skip a beat, the humor lost on him.
'Pleasure to meet you, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, if you don't mind my asking such a delicate question, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, how much will I need to pay you for your services?'
Oh dear. It would appear I had found a big black Biggin with a wallet full of greenbacks. I smiled and patted his arm.
'That's all right, big boy, I'm on special today. Just buy me a drink and satisfy my curiosity.'
The booming reggae music emanated from The Watering Hole, a sleazy looking establishment which was obviously more than just a bar. Various posters displayed on the frontage showed dark skinned girls in assorted stages of undress. A strip joint. Perfect, only perfect. Maybe Big Boy would buy me a lap dance. We walked in, my rather courteous escort selecting a table in a darkish corner near the bar. The place was packed and fiendishly hot, not unlike the black hole of Calcutta. I took off my hat and unbuttoned my dress another notch, making Biggin gulp. I wondered if I had a virgin on my hands. Surely not. Scores of white uniformed sailors of all ages, sizes and shades
