"See-line woman (see-line)
Dressed in green (see-line)
Wears silk stockings (see-line)
With golden seams (see-line)"
Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"
Bodies jammed to music next to other bodies crammed inside Bernice's tiny third-floor apartment. A phonograph played the hot jazz they liked and shiny Black faces shimmied and shook the floor down. Max manned the drink table with his girl, and Bernice collected money at the door.
Lena clutched Stack's hand, and he grinned from east to west entering the raucous rent party. Two seconds after tossing five dollars into Bernice's finest church hat, he entwined his fingers with hers and joined the sweaty dancers cutting the rug.
Oh, he could dance!
Lena squealed as he spun her around. She wiggled her hips, stomped her feet, and threw her arms in the air. Her friends, neighbors, and co-workers eyed him up and down as he swiveled his hips and thrust against her. Later, they shared some cheap reefer and glasses of terrible hooch, then bought plates of fried chicken wings, pickled pig's feet, and potato salad.
Bernice threw an old scratchy Charley Patton record on, and Stack squeezed his eyes shut. He threw one hand up and moaned, "Ohhhhh, shit! Some down home blues!"
He ground his hips against Lena, and she matched his seductive ways with a steamy, slow drag. His hands wandered up and down her back, but once it headed further south and palmed her ass cheeks, they had to leave.
"Follow me," she whispered in his ear.
She led him out of Bernice's place and guided him down a flight of creaky stairs to her smaller kitchenette apartment. She stopped at the shared bathroom on her floor.
"If you need to go, there it is," she said.
Inebriated, he could still tell her living conditions weren't great. He took a quick piss, and she waited for him outside the door. Despite the substandard housing, Lena liked the people who lived in her building.
Stack flicked water from his hands after washing them and trailed behind Lena to her place.
"It's not much, but it's home," she said.
They kissed in the doorway until she felt his dick poking through his pants. His eyes were glassy while peering at her, and she chewed on her bottom lip, studying his expression.
"What do you like about me?" she asked.
"Everything," he said.
"Be specific."
"I like your beauty…your hair…the way you look at me all night. I like the way you smile…dance…everything. Is that satisfactory for ya, or should I keep going?"
"Keep going."
"I like the way your lips feel pressed against mine. I like how you feel against me, all soft and warm and made for me…"
His lips danced along her neck, and he sucked the skin on her collarbone.
"Make love to me, Stack."
"I will."
He lifted her into the apartment and kicked the door closed. Her place only had two rooms, so he went to where the small bed was.
He kissed her clothes off her body. When she was completely nude, he memorized every inch of her, even the twisty strands of her midnight black spiral curls that everyone always admired and women copied.
"I'll be right back. Gonna wash up first," he said.
"Okay. I'll get you some soap and things."
She gathered up a clean towel, a bar of soap, and a brand new pink wash rag.
He left her apartment and padded down the hall to the shared bathroom. She went into her kitchenette and used the sink with another wash rag to clean herself. Drinking a glass of water, she rinsed out her mouth and waited for him.
While she reclined on her soft bed, he returned with only the towel wrapped around his waist. He carried his shoes, garments, and underwear in his hand. Tossing them on a dresser in the room, he climbed onto the bed next to her.
"I have rubbers," he whispered.
He held out a square tin box in his hand that housed condoms.
"Good."
It didn't matter. Lena couldn't have human children, anyway.
Stack reached for her, and she hugged him tight, sharing her lips with his. She carefully kissed his forehead and eyelids, and puckered both his cute cheeks and groomed chin, leaving lipstick smudges. Lena kissed him long enough until her lips were swollen and tingled. He chuckled softly against her mouth and the warm breath added another rich sensation.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"I'm usually knee deep in pussy 'bout to bust by this point."
"Is that what your other women like? Fast sex?"
He leaned back on her pillow and she cuddled on his wide chest, tracing her index finger on his soft chest hairs. His fat dick rested on her thigh, leaking teardrops of pre-cum. He cupped one of her upturned breasts and admired the pert cocoa brown nipples ready for his lips.
"It's not always fast, but I'm usually on the go…working all hours…traveling for the boss. Things get tense. Got no time to waste."
"Seems like the stresses would make you take your time and enjoy yourself. Sounds like you're spent before you even get your trousers off, Mr. Moore."
"Stack."
"Stack…"
She poked the tip of his nose playfully.
"Let me show you how to do it right," she said.
"Hold on."
He opened a condom and rolled it down on his erection.
Lena climbed on top of him and slid down his length, letting his penis stay warm inside of her without moving her hips. She lowered her face to his and kissed him softly, enjoying the languid time she spent just exploring and loving his mouth. His breath shuddered against her lips as he rested his hands on her hips.
She used her teeth to snag his bottom lip and bit it playfully, clenching her vaginal walls to squeeze his heavy dick twice.
"Fuck…!" he gasped.
She still didn't rock or bounce on him, simply allowed her natural lubrication to coat the rubber with a gradual slippery ease. The cock warming worked on him. He stayed focused on her eyes. His lips parted, and he panted her name.
"Lena…Lena…Lena…shit…Lena…"
"You feel so good inside my pussy, Stack. I'm so full of you…"
She slipped her tongue between his lips and their tongues tussled and twisted with groans spilling out. His skin felt like fire and she matched his temperature. She squeezed that big dick again and his eyes widened with the pleasure.
Lena started bouncing then, and he helped give her more girth by thrusting up. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her backside and her bed suffered the strain of their weight humping each other.
He played with her breasts, licked and sucked her nipples tenderly, letting their passion rise to a scorching level. She slammed her ass on him and his body handled the loud smacking of their erratic friction. His eyes narrowed, and she brought him to the place she needed him to be.
"Show me why they call you Big Stack," she cried out.
The energy in the bedroom shifted and Stack flipped her over and rutted inside of her like a man with a serious mission. She yelped in surprise at the ferocity. He grunted with the exertion of stretching her walls to kingdom come…and then some.
Clawing his back, she stared up at the paint peeling on the ceiling and understood completely why the women flocked to his dick. He pumped in and out like a locomotive trying to reach the other side of a tunnel. The curve of his dick tugged on her clit and kept her in a maddening state of almost cumming, but not quite. It made her wetter, and she started crying because it felt too good to be true.
"Fuck me, Stack…oh…Big Stack…baby…!"
She thrashed under him and he pushed her legs up to her ears and fucked the sin outta her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she waited for the bed to crash down to the first floor. Glancing at the wall, the distance had changed. They'd fucked the bed a good seven inches from where it originally sat.
She jammed her cheek against his and hooked her legs over his hips. Her body writhed, keeping pace with his thrusts.
"Fuck… baby…fuck…oh…fuck that dick…fuck me…Lena! Lena!"
"Yes Daddy," she huffed in his ear, "Give it to me…I wanna feel it deep!"
He hunched over her and his body weight pushed her deep into the mattress. His release roared out of his throat, almost scaring her.
He collapsed on top of her, and she stroked the back of his neck.
"What did you do to me?" he gasped.
He rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She peppered his face with tiny kisses, and then jumped off the bed, grabbing her robe off the hook of the bedroom door.
"I'll go pee…wash up… and then we can do it again," she said.
Stack peeled off the condom.
"I'll be ready when you come back."
"You better. That was just the appetizer," she said.
"My God," he yelped.
She dashed out of the apartment and headed to the shared bathroom.
Lena and Stack kept their connection lowkey.
Very private.
A week after they started sleeping together, he moved her from the shabby apartment and paid to keep her in a luxury one inside a newer building with a doorman. She no longer had to share a bathroom and delighted in coming home to a hot bath inside her own space. He spoiled her with new clothes, jewelry, and fancy perfumes. If he couldn't see her, he'd send an errand boy to bring her the roasted peanuts she loved with some flowers. Just to let her know he was thinking of her above all his other paramours. At work, they pretended to be platonic acquaintances even though Max and Bernice knew better from the rent party.
None of the material gifts mattered to her. She only wanted his company and lovemaking.
However, she was greedy.
Lena turned her eyes on Smoke.
Out of the two brothers, Smoke was the more subdued and introverted. Women desired him as much as Stack and took great pains to catch his attention, but the man seemed to be in an insular world of his own. Contemplative. Not overly friendly. One who moved in shadows. He was pleasant with the Sunset staff and stuck close to Ernie as one of his lieutenants, like Stack.
When she knew Stack had to travel to Detroit, it surprised her that Smoke didn't go with him. They ran together on most syndicate runs as Ernie's reps, and this trip shouldn't have been the exception. Yet she stood behind the bar counter working and watching Smoke run the club and the streets while Ernie and Stack were away.
He ran a tight ship.
Lena liked that.
He exuded a quiet power that permeated the club. If Stack acted like a red rooster, strutting around and crowing orders to the staff, Smoke was the hawk watching far above, ready to swoop in with talons raised like a silent assassin.
A big band played to a packed crowd and Smoke perched himself at Ernie's table like a king observing his subjects, keeping them in line. She mixed him a Cohasset Punch because he liked dark rum, and walked it over to his table.
"You always seem to know when I need a drink," he said.
She set the glass down in front of him. Tried to think of a way to engage him without being a nuisance. Caroline, the server in that section of the club, bumped into her on purpose.
"I know what you're trying to do," Caroline hissed.
Lena stepped away from Smoke's table.
Caroline followed her.
"What are you talking about?" Lena said.
"You tried getting Stack, and that didn't work. Now you're going for Smoke. Stop flirting. He's off limits."
"Says who?"
Caroline put a hand on her hip. Her svelte physique was better suited to be a dancer instead of a server. She had the fair skin and keen features to be the next Fredi Washington.
"Stay away from him if you know what's good for you."
She jabbed her finger just under Lena's throat. Lena grabbed her finger and twisted it.
"Is there a problem, ladies?"
Smoke approached them with a neutral expression. Lena yanked her hand back from touching Caroline.
"No, sir," Caroline said with a slight grimace from the pain.
"We like to keep our reputation as a classy establishment. Can't have the staff bickering in front of customers. What's the issue?"
"Nothing, Mr. Moore. Just a misunderstanding," Lena said sweetly.
Lena tried to give him an openly carnal stare. He ignored it.
"Back to work then," he said, pivoting to his seat.
Caroline glared at Lena and quickly stomped off to see about a guest.
Lena had to figure out a way to attract him. Being pretty and using lethal stare-downs didn't work on him. He didn't chase tail. All kinds of pussy surrounded him and she never witnessed him taking advantage of it like his brother did.
All night, she plotted how to catch him. Because he had to run the club, he'd be there all week from opening until closing each night.
Two days passed. She tried everything from chatting him up to changing her hairstyle to see if he noticed.
Nothing.
There had to be a way to capture his attention.
He loved the big bands. Loved the dancing of the chorus girls and the patrons on the dance floor. He especially loved the vocalists who enchanted their audiences. She watched him get lost in the music, sometimes closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table.
On an especially busy night with a young horn player from New Orleans enthralling the club with an improvised solo, Lena watched Smoke struggle to roll his favorite tobacco. Taking a break from her job, she wandered over to him and helped roll the cigarette. Without saying a word, she handed it to him and even lit it with his gold lighter. He took a puff, blew out a stream of smoke, and eyed her.
"Thanks," he said.
She left him alone and twenty minutes later, before he could summon Caroline, Lena had a fresh drink ready for him at his table.
Snooping among her co-workers, she found out what brand of tobacco he liked and pre-rolled a few for him in her apartment. She left them in a silver cigarette holder with his first drink of the evening the next day.
It aggravated Caroline.
The other female servers, too.
The Smoke Stack twins had the raw animal magnetism that dampened panties and inflamed hearts. They were dangerous in the forbidden bad-boy way that made being around gangsters titillating. All the square broads and loose women preened in front of the brothers with their tongues damn near hanging out of their mouths like stray alley cats in heat.
Smoke became dependent on her for his comfort at work. He didn't want anyone else making his drinks or serving it to him…not even his meals there. The head chef told her that Smoke requested for her to bring his evening meal, not the regular servers on duty. She did so and Smoke stayed his normal, subdued self.
Except…
He started looking at her.
She'd wipe down the counter, retrieve bottles, joke with Max and Frank, serve guests with the charm and professionalism that garnered her a sterling reputation, and now and then, she'd feel eyes on her. When she glanced his way, he'd turn his head in another direction.
It surprised her to see him approach the counter and check in with the bar staff. He still said very little to her unless it was complimenting her hard work.
It clicked in her head to disappear.
Call in sick.
Smoke believed in order and things running smooth on his watch. If she threw a wrench into that comfort…
She called Max and told him she was down with the flu. Would be out for three days. She sat in her apartment listening to old blues records Stack liked and played with new styles for her hair. Ate candy. Cooked greasy foods. Napped for hours.
On her second afternoon playing sick, someone slipped a black envelope with a gold wax seal under her apartment door.
Lena used a letter opener to slice under the seal of an hourglass embedded in the wax. Inside the letter was plain white cardstock with a name written on it in gold embossed script. She memorized it, then placed the envelope and card on the floor, where it burst into flames. It withered away until there was only a whiff of smoke left. Sighing, she opened her bedroom window and quickly undressed.
Lying on her bed, she waited quietly for her transformation.
It always started as an intense heat in her toes that worked up to her midsection before painfully engulfing the rest of her. Her physical form liquefied into a gooey mass of black matter on the bed as her consciousness hovered above it, waiting to re-connect.
The essence of her floated down into the corporal form of a large crow.
She hopped off the bed and made her way to the window, perching on the sill. Leaping out, she spread her wings and soared above the tree near her apartment, and used a warm draft to carry her to the person she needed to see.
An elderly Black man sat on a park bench dressed in a smart blue suit holding a bag of breadcrumbs. He fed some pigeons vying for his generous offerings near his well-worn shoes.
Lena dropped next to him and the man glanced at her.
"You want some too, big fella?" the man said.
He sprinkled a small amount of crumbs for her on the bench, and she accepted a few to be polite. She cawed loudly and all the pigeons flew away. She needed his undivided attention.
"That wasn't real nice fella, those other birds weren't bothering you…oh," he said.
He gazed into her left eye, finally noticing the iridescent color.
"Oh," he said again, clutching his arm.
His breathing became haggard, and he grimaced before relaxing.
"I guess it's my time," he whispered to her.
Death came then.
She walked down a path unseen by other humans in the park. Mothers pushed baby prams, children ran around with nannies in tow, and young couples in love strolled in the sunshine holding hands.
Death wore a long sable veil that covered her entire body and trailed behind her into eternity. Underneath the covering, her obsidian skin shined brightly in an ethereal light, creating a tangible warmth that was as comforting as the womb the old man floated in when he was a baby. Back then, Death came to him as Life, coaxing him into the world. She was the first to hear him take his first breath as an infant beyond the veil. Now she had returned for his homegoing journey.
"Do not be afraid," Death said, reaching for him.
Unshed tears shined in his eyes.
"I'll try not to be."
"Thank you for finding him, Lena," Death said. "You may go now until I need you again."
Lena flapped her wings twice and leapt into the air. Looking down, she watched Death pull back her veil and envelop the old man in a loving embrace.
They vanished.
The bench held only the empty vessel that had once been Mr. Parnell Thomas James. Seventy-five years of age. He left behind a wife, four adult children, and five grandchildren. One day Lena would have to visit them, too.
But only when Death called for her.