“She was in the barn when I pulled up,” Washington was quoted as saying. “It was a hot summer day, and she was wearing short shorts and a half top and brushing down one of the horses. I was really surprised to see her, truth be told. I didn’t even know that was Mindy Snow’s house, and there she was, standing right in front of me.”
Washington then went on to describe how Mindy only muttered a hello to him at first but seemed to be watching him as he unloaded the hay bales and stacked them on the storage rack. It was just as he was finishing up that she walked over to him and told him what a handsome man he was. He thanked her for the compliment, a little tongue-tied from being in her presence, and then she asked him if he minded if she ran her hands over his muscles to see what they felt like. He allowed her to do this and he could tell that she was getting aroused by the contact. He was getting aroused as well, feeling Mindy’s hands touching him in a way that was not just curiosity, but hunger.
She then asked Washington if it was true that black people did not like to eat pussy. Washington allowed that there was a cultural taboo about that particular activity among certain demographics of his people.
“And what about you?” she’d allegedly asked at that point. “Do you eat pussy?”
He told her that he was not an adherent to that particular cultural belief and that he rather enjoyed eating a nice pussy now and then.
“Why don’t you eat mine then?” Mindy asked, unbuttoning her shorts and pushing them down to her feet where she then kicked them off. Washington saw that she had apparently forgot to put on her underpants that day.
“It was a beautiful pussy,” Washington reported. “Shaved smooth, the lips all swollen and wet. And she smelled strong, like she hadn’t taken a shower that day.”
“So, what did you do?” the reporter asked.
“What the hell you think I did?” Washington replied. “This was Mindy fucking Snow! I got down on my knees and ate her pussy while she sat on one of the hay bales.”
Like Colder before him, Washington relayed how Mindy was very specific in how her pussy should be eaten; what the tongue and fingers should be doing at what time and with how much pressure. And, as had also been the case with Colder, she insisted that Washington stick a finger up her ass while he licked her, and this was what triggered her orgasm.
After that, she pulled him to his feet and handed him a condom in a wrapper.
“Where did she get the condom?” Washington was asked.
“Fucked if I know,” Washington reported. “It was just there in her hand. Maybe she had it in her hand the whole time, maybe she had it in her shirt pocket.”
“Put this on and fuck me,” Mindy ordered Washington at that point. She then turned around and leaned over the hay bale, presenting her exquisite ass to him. He put the condom on and fucked her. Throughout the act, Mindy kept barking at him to fuck faster, fuck harder, to slap her ass, and then to put a finger back in her anus. She threatened to rip off his balls if he came before she did. He managed to hold on until Mindy squeaked out one more shuddering orgasm and then he finished off.
“Throw the rubber in the garbage over there by the barn door,” he was told as Mindy picked up her shorts and put them back on. “Nice fucking you.”
And, with that, she had walked away, heading in the direction of the house. Washington continued to make deliveries to her house for another year before being given a job with more responsibility and less delivering. He never saw Mindy Snow again—at least not in person.
And that ended the tale of Malcolm Washington. There was one more of Mindy’s lovers to hear from. Jake started to flip to the next section of the story when he felt a little hand tugging on his arm. It was Tabby.
“Read me, Unka Jay!” she told him. “See pictures!”
He quickly closed the issue of Smooth Operator and shoved it behind his back. “Not from this book, Tabster,” he told her gently. “Maybe from one of your books?”
“Want your book!” she insisted, climbing up on the couch next to him and trying to retrieve it.
“Not for a few more years,” he said. “Why don’t we read ‘Everybody Poops’ again? That one is a classic.”
“WANT YOUR BOOK!” she screamed. A moment later she was in the midst of a full-blown fit of rage and evil that did every ounce of justice to her new nickname.
Pauline came and picked her up and carried her screaming into her bedroom. She unceremoniously dumped her onto her bed.
“You know the rules, Tab,” Pauline told her. “You can come out when you’re ready to be a respectable member of society once again.”
“WANT UNKA JAY’s BOOK!” she screamed once more and then began to hysterically cry.
Pauline left her in there while Jake gave the magazine back to Obie. He would read the rest of the article later.
Tabby cried herself to sleep and woke up just before dinner. Jake did not read any more of the article, however, nor did Tom. After dinner, Pauline asked Jake if she could see him in her office for a few minutes.
“What for?” he asked.
“Just a little business,” she told him. “Nothing big.”
This turned out not to be entirely true, although, since what did and did not constitute “big” was a subjective interpretation, Pauline was not really lying.
“What’s up?” Jake asked.
“It’s about the Tsunami Sound Festival,” she said.
“Oh yeah,” Jake said. “The concert in the desert. What about it? Is that suit Stillson ready to sit down and sign some papers?”
“He is,” she said, “but that’s not what I want to talk about. He called me yesterday to set up a meeting for the contract. I was hoping to get it done today, before you left for New Zealand, but ... well ... a complication has come up.”
“What kind of complication?”
She sighed. “I asked him if he had nailed down a headliner for the show,” she said. “He started hemming and hawing and being otherwise evasive about the subject without actually giving me a solid yes or no, so I insisted that he tell me what the hell was going on.”
“And what did he say?” Jake asked.
“He hemmed and hawed a little more, but when I told him that we would sign no papers until this issue was settled, he finally came clean.”
“Came clean with what?”
Another sigh. “He’s going to sign Matt Tisdale to be the headliner for both nights of the festival.”
Jake’s expression darkened. His eyes burrowed into his sister. “Matt Tisdale,” he said slowly. “That’s who he wants me to play in front of?”
She nodded. “That’s correct. The papers aren’t signed yet, but Matt has verbally agreed to be the headliner on both nights.”
“I thought he was already on tour,” Jake said.
“He’ll be on tour break between the Asia and the South America legs of his international tour on the dates of the festival,” she said. “They’ll have to rent all of the equipment for him, but he has still agreed to perform.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jake said, shaking his head. “How much are they paying that asshole for this?”
“He did not disclose Matt’s rate of compensation,” Pauline said. “I did not even ask. It’s not any of our business and it’s irrelevant to the discussion at hand.”
Now Jake sighed. “I guess so,” he agreed. “Well, this is a deal breaker for me. I will not open for Matt Tisdale. Either he finds a different headliner or the Tsunami fucking Sound Festival goes on without me participating.”
She nodded. “I anticipated such a response from you,” Pauline said. “I think it’s a dumb response, based on pride and little else, but I anticipated it.”
“Pride is not a bad thing, Paulie,” he told her. “Pride is why we’re not still living in fucking caves.”
“A debate for another day perhaps,” she said. “Anyway, I told Stillson that you would likely make such an ultimatum. He told me that he would up your compensation to one point two million, but, that if you absolutely want to go to the wall on this thing ... well ... he will go with Matt as the headliner and find another second to last act.”