October 7th 1930, Tuesday.
They were sent to fill in pot holes along the highway that week, it was pure luck of a sort that I found them three miles or so east of the railroad crossing, all working away.
I stopped just by them, “No need to ask what you want Mr Lawson,” Hawkins leered.
“Indeed Mr Hawkins,” I agreed, “Will ten dollars be acceptable?”
“Sure,” he said, “What about the girls?”
“Sausages ok?” I asked.
“Sure, up front,” Frieda said, and then she burst out laughing.
I went back to town and got myself a whole heap of pork sausages, and hurried back, as fast a model A Ford would go that is, trouble was there was no shack, nor no cover, but hell you know how it is, I wanted her, damn it I needed her.
“You best lean against that tree,” Hawkins said to Jane with a leer as I brought the basket of sausages.”
“I’m not a whore!” she protested.
“Fuck or get beat up,” I suggested, “You don’t fuck your friends don’t eat and that ain’t fair.”
She never had any chance to not fuck they pushed her against the tree, held her hands out the way sread her legs for her and pulled up her skirt, “She’s all ready and willing,” Frieda said as she waggled a glistening index finger at me, “I warmed her up for you.”
“Mrs Meyer, you want a sausage?” I asked.
“It’s Jayne,” she said, “I’m starving,” so I gave her a juicy pork sausage to eat and dropped my pants and slid my meat deep inside her but it was odd screwing her against the tree, near stood up while she wolfed down a pork sausage and Frieda was right, she was warmed up all right, she was on fire, and there is only one cure for a girl afire, and that’s a good solid jet of jism.
“You’ll get me in trouble,” Jayne complained.
“Sure, you been beat since we started screwing?” I asked her.
“No,” she said, “but they shaved me when I got your jism in my hairs,” she admitted, “But it’s wrong John I’m a married woman!” she protested.
“Should have married me,” I told her, and I let fly that stream of jism she needed oh so bad, “You should have married me.”
“Yes, you should have asked.” she said, “Damn you!”
“I guess your barren anyway,” I said nastily.
“We always use French letters,” she said, “Toby already has kids.” she said and she sounded so sad.
“Shit,” I muttered, but it was time to get cleaned up and back to work.
October 17th 1930 Friday.
The chain gang never came so I went looking for them, I took some bread rolls with pork sausages,and found them weeding a Potato field, there was no cover anywhere around but I paid the man and the girls just took Jayne’s dress right off her to keep it clean and she lay down right there in the dirt completely naked while the women stood round.
She smiled at me and held her arms out, “I didn’t think you would come.” she whispered.
“I haven’t yet!” I told her, as I took a couple of potato sacks to kneel on and I just eased myself down on her and the girls watched as I slid my swollen tool deep in her, down deep in that sweet pink hairless heaven, hell I was so wrapped in her I never cared that those bitches were staring at my hairy ass as I pleasured her, and Jayne, why she was as hot and eager as a bitch on heat that she even forgot her food till I reminded her.
“It’s like petting down by the creek,” she said, “But better.”
“Maybe you’ll remember me when you get back East?” I suggested
“Don’t” she said, “Just live for the moment.”
“Hey buster,” Frieda said when I climbed off, “You want to check her dates.”
October 24th 1930 Friday.
It was becoming a habit, and too many folks knew about it, me and Jayne screwing when she was supposed to be in Jail, and when I came back to the Bank on Friday all muddied up after handing out meat pies and screwing her under a tree in a rain storm, just one lone tree in the potato field with the girls clustered round watching like they was a part of it, and me and her just concerned with ourselves and nothing else like we was kids again, but I knew it had to end, hell I wanted her every day, I couldn’t think of nothing else and no other girl really did it for me any more.
That’s when I started checking dates, under state law she had a whole three six five day year after being bankrupt before she could petition to be released, and as I had pretty much seized every asset she had there was no reason to release her except maybe I could take her wages if she had any that was.
I never told her but that week end I did some figuring and I decided we could use a new teller in the Bank, things were looking up, folks were buying stuff, money was moving around again.
27th October 1930 Monday.
I made an appointment to see the Governor at the Jail, old Menzies Moorhouse that afternoon,I got shown into his office by this girl who looked like she stepped out of a movie, her hair all lacquered, sparkling ear rings, bosoms thrusting against her striped prison dress, it didn’t take much figuring to work out her duties, although what I was not too sure what use Moorhouse would have for a whore, what with him being over sixty both in years and in inches around his waist.
“Well Mr Lawson, what can I do for you?” he asked as the girl went an sprawled across his big oak desk making it oh so obvious she had nothing on under that skimpy dress.
“Ah, now well now” I said awkwardly, “I see Mrs Meyer doing unpaid work, now I as her receiver have an obligation to get as much cash out of her for her creditors as I can.”
“Right,” he says, “You want to start paying to screw her every Friday, nice warm cell, lingerie, perfume?”
“No,” I said.
“Someone else then, Michelle, show him what you got Shelly,” he ordered.
“Ah, no,” I said quietly but the girl already had her dress up showing me her nicely shaved pubes, “No that Mrs Meyer is a clever woman.”
“That fucks real smooth, and willing, come on Lawson, everyone knows surely?” he asked, “Hell she done three months solitary rather than screw me and low and behold if she don’t near rip your pants off first chance she gets.”
“What?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied, “I offered her Shelly’s job you know, but she got real nasty so I put her on bread and water for a while and when she got out the other girls beat up on her.”
“And the chain gang?” I asked.
“She ain’t no good at sewing or knitting, ” he explains. “Thats what we do here Mr Lawson, make and mend stuff for the mens facilities around the State so sweeping and screwing is all she fit for.”
“So can she work for me, until her release date?” I said, “Sort of probation, parole?” I asked.
“License, work license,” he said, “Sure if she agrees, what you thinking, whore?”
“Ah, bank clerk?” I asked.
“Oh that’s awkward, hows about domestic servant?” he suggested.
“Sounds good.” I agreed.
“Hundred dollars administration fee, cash.” he said.
“And how much per week?” I asked.
“Oh I don’t see any need to pay the state,” he said, “Just pay me the hundred cash and pick her up any time you want, you hear Shelly, you get that typed up right now do you hear!”
I stared as she walked to a small desk at the side of the room, “She was Walt Gimshaw’s stenographer,” he explained, “She ain’t just a pretty face.”
Her hands just flew over them keys and pretty soon she had a document drawn up, I looked it over, “That’s fine,” I said, “I’ll have a couple of spare prison dresses for her if I may.”
“Surely she’ll wear her own stuff?” Moorhouse replied in confusion.
“All sold, it was too fancy for her anyway,” I told him, “And leave the leg irons I don’t want her escaping.”
“Right,” he agreed, “Then you can change her real easy if she gets uppity.”
“When can I take her.” I asked.
“Soon as I get the cash,” he laughed, “One hundred and twenty dollars, them dresses are real top quality!” he laughed.
It seemed like a real rip off, but then maybe it was a bargain, if you reckoned a high class whore was ten dollars a poke she would pay for herself in less than a month.
I hammered that old Model T back to town, damn me if the big ends didn’t start rattling and clattering like a can of nails by the time I got to town, I swung in the gas station, “Tom,” I shouted when I saw Tom Ennis stood there by the workshop, “The damn motor’s rattling.”
“Big ends,” he said, “Needs a look see,”
“Can you fix it?” I asked.
“Now, Nope, Friday maybe?” he said, and when he saw I was in a hurry, “Maybe you should trade up.”
I looked at his lot, there was a model A roadster, all low slung and useless on our dirt roads and that damned Studebaker, that used to be Toby Meyer’s.
“I’ll do you a good price,” he said.
“How about a test drive?” I asked, “Right now?”
“Sure,” he says “You just buy the Gas.”
It took twelve gallons, gee. but that motor just purred and pretty soon I had got a big wad of dollar bills and I was headed back to the jail.
October 27th 1930, Monday 4.30 p.m
Menzies Moorhouse was just about to leave for the day when I arrived, “Hell I’d have made it two hundred if I knew you had a swanky motor like that,” he said and he never believed it was a loaner.
I just handed over the cash and a half hour later I signed on the dotted line and she was mine.
“Pick her up anytime,” he said.
“How about now?” I suggested.
“Oh, blacksmith’s on overtime if you take her now,” he said, “I’ll get her broke loose in the morning, but the chain gang’s back in an hour if you want to get friendly.”
The thought of fucking Jayne in front of the guards and all those other women, gee.
“Ok,” I said, “The morning, maybe Noon,” and I added, “I’ll break the news to her.”
I hung around and soon enough the chain gang appeared looming dark against the western sky as they wearily tramped in through the big barbed wire security doors and brought Jayne to me in an interview room, all sweaty and filthy from her days work, still barefoot still with leg irons on still chained to her friends..
“Hello Mrs Meyer.” I said.
“Mr Lawson,” she said, “It seems you are my new boss.”
“Look, can’t you two just fuck so we can get some sleep?” Frieda asked.
There was no room to lie down so we improvised and the girls held her and I stepped over her ankle chains and they lifted her up with her feet behind my back and then lowered her over my cock as I stood with my pants around my ankles.
It was like I was fucking every single girl in that room it was so intense, the heat the smell and Jayne milking my cock it was like heaven in the heat of hell.
28th October 1930, Tuesday Noon.
I waited for her at the prison, she came out with old Menzies Moorcroft and a guard, her ankles still hobbled by a short chain and she was wearing a torn and patched prison dress but she smiled at me when she saw me.
“Yes, shall we go,” I suggested, “Do you have everything?”
“Yeah don’t forget the spare dresses.” Menzies added and he handed her two more old patched and filthy dresses. “See you later,” he added.
“Can you get these irons off me?” she asked.
“No, regulations,” Menzies said with a wink, “One mistake and it’s solitary mind.” he says and with a wave he was gone.
The guard took us through the first gate to where I left the car and Jayne held things together until she saw the Studebaker then she started crying, “That’s Toby’s automobile?” she said. “Oh shit.”
“Are you all right?” I asked as I took her arm and guided her to it.
“It’s too much,” she said, “It’s a shock that’s all.”
She climbed into the passengers seat, and I swung up and pressed the self starter, “I loaned it,” I said, “The model T died.”
The guard opened the outer gate and I drove her from captivity to slavery, but as far as she was concerned she was free again.
She never believed me about the Studebaker, right until we took it back to Tom Ennis, and I started haggling over the price.
“John we paid ten times that!” she hissed.
“You was a lady then not a barefoot whore,” I said. She just looked down crestfallen,
“Maybe I deserve a slapped face?” I suggested.
“Yes,” she said, “But I don’t need solitary.”
“Baby I ain’t letting you go anywhere.” I told her, and then we walked arm in arm through town to the bank and then to my apartment just down the street, there wasn’t hardly anyone to see us, but I wouldn’t have cared anyway.
I didn’t have anything in for dinner, so we went to the diner, gee was she embarrassed, but she sure had an appetite, I’d have to watch her waistline, and then back to the apartment, “John,” she asked, “Can I get a bath?”
That wasn’t as easy as it could have been, I spent ages getting the boiler going for hot water before I realised she wouldn’t have cared if it was freezing.
She lazed in that tub for ages, soap all up around her and when she was done she washed her hair, gee was it filthy, and then, finally, when we were done and had dried the inside of her leg irons which was no easy task.
“What now?” she asked. So I kissed her, and she started to undo the buttons on my shirt.
“You want to make love in my bed?” I asked.
“Can I sleep with you after?” she asked.
“Sure,” I agreed, “After,” and I lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom, through the bedroom door, across to my double bed, and then I eased the bed covers open and laid her down on the sheet and after kicking off my pants I laid down beside her. “Shall we start over?” I asked.
“Please,” she said, “Where we left off before I met Toby?” I figured her lips were a great place to start, she seemed to agree, we hadn’t kissed properly for years, but she sure tasted good, and her breasts felt real swell and they tasted real good as I moved my head down to sample them and then I went right on down to taste her juices and explore her with my tongue.
“John,” she said, “It’s time, just do it ok,” she sounded like she really needed me so I shifted around and just slid my real stiff manhood deep inside her, man did it feel good, and not only good, it felt absolutely right.
“John,” she said, “Do you love me,” she asked.
“Yes!” I agreed, “Jane Hicks I love you,” I told her, “You hear that?”
“I so hoped you did,” she said, “So show me how much, ok.”
I did my best to show her, “You want to lick my cock clean?” I asked when we finished.
“Mmmm,” she whispered, “Creamy.”
“Is it?” I asked.
“No its disgusting,” she grimaced, “But it’s nice and hard again so just lie back its my turn.”
She straddled me, “Suck my titties she ordered and before I could do anything she sank herself down on me, and started to bounce up and down.”No, but I guess I don’t have a choice,” she said.
“No,” I agreed, “You don’t have a choice,” she shifted around, with this look of disgust on her and she started to lick, oh wow did that feel good.
“Jane,” I said, “Wow!”
“Do you mean it, do you really like that?” she said.
“That’s the best ever,” I told her, as she bounced around and all too soon my poor aching balls were pumping spunk right in her again.
I let her wash up and I did too, and we had coffee and then we went to bed to sleep.
“John,” she said, as she snuggled down beside me, “Will you buy me some proper clothes.”
“No, you might run away,” I said, “No you keep your leg irons and that thin dress and bare foot and,” I paused.
“John?” she said, “What is it?”
“Damned if I ain’t hard again.” I said.
“Oh John,” she says, “Can we play again?”
“Sure,” I said, “When your jail time is done and I’m sure you ain’t going to run I’ll buy you French gowns and Lingerie, and perfume and.”
“Hush and make love to me,” she said, “I’ll be the best wife you could ever have wanted John.”
Excepting she was married to Toby Meyer.
15th February 1931. Sunday.
Her dress was tight across the belly, she was sick every morning, she worried that we wouldn’t be married before the kid came, hell she even asked me to marry her on Valentine’s day.
She never mentioned french perfume or dresses any more and as she swelled she wasn’t my Jane any more.
I knew Tony Meyer was a no good bigamist and her marriage was a sham but I was doing ok, real smart girls from good families were giving me the eye, business was on the up, I hired Maria as clerk and so Jayne could stay home doing the cleaning and cooking, I had a room fixed up for her so she didn’t disturb me in the night and that’s when I figured I never loved her any more.
17th March 1932, Wednesday. 10.a.m.
The chain gang came shuffling up the street, Hawkins watching, Frieda the queen bee, just like the old days, except some faces had changed.
I thought of when Jayne had been on the gang, how we fucked gloriously in the fields and against trees and I thought of the fat wallowing cow Jayne had become, and when I looked at the girls in their filthy dresses all shackled my cock twitched.
There was Miriam McIntyre, I recognised her, she murdered her husband, she was only seventeen when she did it, her daddy made her marry Silas McIntyre when they went broke in 29 and she paid him back with an axe through his head, poor bastard, seventy six years old and killed by his wife, why in gods name hadn’t she fucked him to death I wondered, hell she had legs up to her arm pits and tits to die for.
18th March 1931 Wednesday Noon.
It was a moment of madness, but I went to the shack in the rail yard where the chain gang rested around noon, I took cash, I took some fried chicken and I took french letters.
“What brings you here Mr Lawson,” Hawkins asked, “You tired of Jayne, you wanna maybe fuck Frieda?”
“Miriam McIntyre,” I said, “I want to fuck the murdering little bitch.”
She tried to hide behind the other girls, “But Mr Lawson, she’s only eighteen,” Hawkins protested.
“Twenty dollars?” I offered, “Hell fifty!” I offered, “Fifty bucks for a fuck?” I told him. “You didn’t see anything right?”
“Yes sir.” he agreed.
I turned to the girls, “You want to earn some food?” I asked, “Fried chicken,”
“Who wants to know?” a new girl asked.
“John Lawson, manager at Grays bank,” I replied.
“So what do you want us to do to earn a feed?” she asked.
“Surely that’s obvious?” I asked, “Look the other way while I get friendly with Miriam.”
“What?” Frieda asked incredulously, “You want to do sex with Miriam, what happened to Jayne?”
“She got fat,” I said sadly, “So if you just look the other way you get to eat chicken.”
“No, no way!” little Miriam insisted.
“Look sister, if you have to fuck so we eat then you fuck understand.” Frieda insisted, “On the table with her girls.
She never had a chance, as soon as I set the pieces of chicken down they dragged her dress off of her and laid her on the table, she never wore any underwear and her tight little breasts and flat belly and sweet golden cunt fur looked so fuckable that my cock near exploded right there and then.
“Please don’t,” she pleaded, but I just pulled her to the edge of the table like I done with Jayne and sought out her sex, I got a thumb inside then two fingers, and shockingly I found she was a virgin there was a real honest to goodness maidenhead right in there, but with my fingers there she started to juice up.
I dropped my pants and got my french letters out and slipped one on, then I moved up towards her, the table was just the right height “No,” she said as I got my tool against her sex lips, “Please!”
“It’s our secret,” I whispered and I pushed and took her and made her a woman. She looked right in my eyes and nodded slightly, poor bitch, having her first fuck on a table with seven other women and an overseer looking on.
Trouble is I felt terrible guilty, I guess technically it was rape though she was eighteen, coercion if not rape, and I felt real bad as my cock felt real good in her hot box, real natural, and do you know she smiled part way through, she had a real pretty smile. I felt a great weight lifted off me, when she smiled, I figured she liked me and wanted some more of me and I wanted more of her.
I ain’t proud of what I done, but who wouldn’t say no to a freshly plucked virgin, when all he had at home was a pregnant lump of a woman.
23rd March 1931, Monday Noon.
I went home just before Noon and Jayne was waiting for me, “Have you been screwing around John?” she asked straight out like she was my wife or something.
“Sure,” I said, “What of it?”
“I thought you loved me?” she said.
“I thought so too,” I said, “Except you’re always saying be careful of the baby, or you’re tired or spewing your guts, how in the hell am I supposed to get my rocks off?”
“I hate you, I want to go back to jail.” she said.
I called her bluff and rang old Menzies Moorhouse and arranged a straight swap, Miriam McIntyre for Jayne Meyer.
27th March 1931 Friday.
I took Jayne back to jail, she wouldn’t let me near her after Monday so I said I’d take her back and let her be on the chain gang again and so I drove her back in that damned Studebaker I don’t reckon we said more than two dozen words all the way, and she just walked away when we got there.
Miriam was waiting, I never made the same mistake twice, she had her own clothes on, honest long denim skirt and stout cotton blouse and she was bathed and fragrant and ready to fuck.
“I’m only fucking you to get out of jail,” she said right out, “I don’t love you.”
“I don’t love you neither,” I said, “I just love those legs and those eyes and.”
“Sure,” she said, “It’s ok, I don’t mind, really, I’ll be your whore.”
I got her some fancy clothes, gave her a job in the bank, screwed her in my office most mornings at eleven and three and took her to my bed every night
4th July 1931, Saturday 6.45 p.m.
Menzies Moorhouse sent for me, “It’s about Miss Meyer,” the officers said, “You’ve to come now sir.”
“She can rot in hell for all I care,” I said but Miriam she told me straight, “Go John, I expect it’s the baby.”
I never wanted to, but I went to the prison and there on the concrete of a cell floor was Jayne and beside her was the most perfect little creature you ever saw, my son, hell he even had my nose and fingernails.
“Take her away son,” Menzies said, “Get her a fancy doctor you can afford it.”
I done as he said and took mother and baby home with me, Miriam smiled, “You done the right thing John,” she said, “You marry her you hear.”
“But I want you.” I told her but she put a finger to my lips.
“Hush,” she said, “I’ll be forty fat and ugly before I’m released, no you breed a family with Miss Meyer.”