Best of Friends by Ray Cates (Adolphus)

George Handle was leaving, or more precisely escaping from Centrum Florida.  His house was owed for, and his vehicles had no value in them.  He had worked at a dozen jobs while I knew him, and never stayed with any of them.  I guess he was mostly a hustler, he moved around fast with whatever he was selling, and hoped no one looked to carefully at the product. 

I was at my house at eight PM when he came to my apartment with his story.  George needed money and I was his acquaintance.  The way he said he saw it, “Your my one and only friend.”  That was to grub up his standing so I would help him.  His idea was to get to the next town and catch a train to Jacksonville.  He eventually was going to go to Metro South Carolina.  He said, “I hear that they have some open gambling there, and I am a man who knows how to handle cards.” 

I wondered about his skill with cards, because the games I had seen him in were rather unfortunate for him.  So somehow he had squirled away two credits — it would cost at least that to travel so far, mostly I just listened to him.  He was not a big man, smaller than me, and he looked beat, down, defeated when he stood in my entrance room.

Finally he said, “My wife and daughters are agreed.”  He hesitated there, which puzzled me,  I imagined he was abandoning them, from what he said about leaving by himself.  I was planning to offer him some loose coppers I had in a bowl.  The coppers were in the back of my apartment.  There were maybe a hundred and fifty in total.  He continued, “agree to let me sell them to get away.” 

So that wa his plan, for me to buy them so he would have traveling money.  Of course he knew with the market so far down, and a glut of slaves, they wouldn’t bring much on the market in Central Florida.  He had probably told them I was a great guy — his one buddy.  Maybe he had said that he would make money in the North and would buy them back.  They would probably prefer being ‘placed’ with me rather than being sent to a pawn shop where they would be stripped and sold in a public place.  They might be planning to run off.

“Where are they now?”  I said.

“Standing in your hall, right outside the door.”  George said not looking at me.  He kept his eyes down like he was almost a slave himself.  He was a defeated man.  Slavery seems to always to be about total defeat.

MARY’S STORY

Daddy told us to come in with our clothing bags.  We had waited in the man’s hall about an hour.  Mother had tried not to cry and I was just fourteen.  My sister was two years older, and had better bigger hair than I did.  Sister looked much older than me, maybe age twenty.  Her name was Lucinda and she had whispered that we were about to be sold to some man, a friend of daddy’s.  I had seen people for sale in stores and sometimes on the street.  I wondered how much I would be worth to this mystery man.

I was sitting on my big cloth bag when we were told to come in.  The man was all dressed up compared to us.  He had on a suit like your would wear to church.  He was not tall and didn’t seem very old  I thought at the time thirty.  His hair was black and his eyes brown, and I saw a scar on his neck under his ear.  Mostly I watched him look at me and my sister.  I had wondered how a man would look at women he would buy.  Of course, it was possible that he would look at us and think he only needed one woman, or maybe none.  Then where would we go?  That was the question.  I was wearing a jacket and he said, “Take off the coat.”  I did it quick.  I guessed he could have wanted to see me in the all together, without a stitch.

It was a small apartment and the man seemed to look more at me than at my sister or mother.  I thought mother was pretty, but this looking — but not touching went on for some minutes.  Sister’s breasts wer big, bigger than mothers.  I thought that was something a man would look at.  And her’s were stand out things.  Most large ones drooped.  He saw them, but he didn’t touch any of us then.

Father said to the man, “Did I lie about the way they look?”

“No their worth what you ask, but I’m taking a chance.  What if they aren’t obedient?  What if they try to slip off?”

“Listen I’m going off to the West Coast — you know I have to.  Their only women, they have no place to go.  If you weren’t their owner they would have to give themselves to someone else.”  Daddy’s voice was gruff, “You women get on your knees.”

We all got down on our knees.  I had seen slaves bow to masters on the street.  It was the first time I had ever bowed down to a man or boy.

Father said then, “Tell him you’ll obey and be good slaves.”

My sister said, “I’ll  obey you sir.”

Mother looked at him and said, “I’ll be a faithful slave to you.”

“I won’t run off. “  I said, “I’m not sure what you want me to do but I’ll try.”

“I’ll give you two credits for the three.”  the man said.  The tone was ‘Take it or leave it.’  I saw the money pass from one hand to the other.  It was the currency of  The Villages of Florida.

The Older Sister — Lucinda

I smiled at him alot and I’ve been told my smile is very nice.  He was a nice looking man.  It was my hobby before, before that day, to cut out pictures of men from magazines.  I would tape in their faces to my book.  I would write their names down.  Names and pictures have powers.  My masters name was powerful, it was proven in power.  He owned us, we didn’t own him.

My book of pictures and names I carried in my bag of clothing.  I analyzed names, often parts of them had meaning.  His name was Garry M. Sofarter.  I think the M may be a turned over W.  It might be sort of secret.  Check it out people who are of the most importance have W’s in their names.  If I could name myself I would get rid of my slave name, but of course I  am already some bodies slave.

I am a virgin no more.   Most female flesh is owned by someone.  It was really foolish to have so many dreams about being myself.

ONCE WIFE LINDA

My mistake was going away from home to live.  The first man who wanted to marry me I was hot to hitch up with.  George had these big ideas.  He would go to the city where everything happens.  That’s what he said, “Nothing happens on the farm.”  My father had a farm.  I had to work with the cows.  It was like my place in life to be with the cows.  Other sisters and half sisters got to work in the kitchen, but everyone seemed to see me and as long as I remembered thought, “She would be good with cows”  Big stupid things cows and so George came along, passing through and I was sixteen.  I was up early, with the cows, he came out and repeated his proposal that I go with him.  No other boys had wanted me to go anywhere but behind the barn where father couldn’t see.

George gambled and drank.  When he was drinking he might even forget what he bet.  As long as he had a job I would take what money he had from him.  When his job was no more he took out loans that he couldn’t pay back and ruined our already not so good life

Reluctant Master — Gary

I didn’t know George’s family before I bought them.  He was a sometimes drinking buddy at Logains Bar.  Actually we would sit around talking about the bar maids.  The drink servers were a happy bunch who especially liked George, he was a man women fell for easily.  This one girl who was about the best there, was named Lyn, she would sit in George’s lap.  She talked like George was welcome at her room anytime he liked.  I figured he had frequented her room several times before. 

Lyn was young, and not a slave.  In that bar about half the women belonged to the bar. You knew which women were which by silver collars on the owned ones.  Lyn was tall with a slim waist and rather shapely boobs.  Then I figured he was about like me with no wives, only the day he looked me up for money did I find out that he had a family.

Up until that time I had rented a woman from time to time. — at least once a week.  Generally I got them two blocks from my apartment at Jenkins, it was a whore house, but sort of upscale and modern architecture.  The women I chose there were rather young, twentish.  They were never virgins.

Mostly I took the Jenkins girls home at night and back next morning.  Jenk charged by the day, I never wanted them 24 hours.  The only concern Jenk had was that one of them would run away while I was bringing her or taking her.  So we loaded the picked one with chains.  I didn’t even feed the girls while home just went down and hooked their chain to a floor ring next to my bed.  I neer had any of the women even try to run, actually they were happy to be away from Jenk’s joint.  Some said they had not been in the sunlight for five years.  Jenks kept a secure place, and all his inmates were slaves.  Some of the whores begged to come back to my place and I would say, “Maybe” or “We’ll see after tonight.”  I didn’t want to be attached to women that I had to feed and clothe.

I had worked my domestic life that way for over twenty years and my money got saved, but it was an uneventful and dull life.  My life felt like a temporary fix until the women I bought from George.

Having wives would have been too permanent, so I figured with George’s deal I was not like committed.  Slaves were property, pure and simple.  Women you owned you could keep as long as you wanted.  At first I figured to keep one of them and sell two.  My first pick to keep was the youngest Mary.  She was small and vigorous and from the first seemed to accept that she had to do what I said.  Also she was not nearly as afraid of me as the mother and older sister. 

Now what really happened was not that I got romantically attached to any of them, but that each of them provided services that I had never enjoyed before.  I had always cooked for myself, and what cleaning I did the women I brought home had not done.  My apartment got more a mess after I had a whore there.  The rental slaves didn’t even clean themselves, or not like I wanted them clean.

I had been a life counseling apprentice for five years before i mastered my trade.  I was like a non-medical doctor.  I was hired by a variety of mostly richer people to prepare life charts and evaluate the prospects of individuals who came to my office.  For the last 15 years I had a corner location on Brooks Street between a shoe repairman and a happy juice bar.  At the bar they sold pep pills. 

What my office was made up of was three rooms.  First was where people came in and saw my certificates on the wall.  They  were framed along with charts explaining the benefits of evaluation, my advice, and treatment.  Most of my patients were refered by others.

My 2nd room was for body evaluation, there I had the client disrobe and with a towel around his or her body I felt the general condition of the flesh — head hands and feet.  If there were other bothersome places complained about by the client I would check that out.  I had more women patients than men, and mostly the women were older.  Maybe 50% came from the huge retirement towns all called The Villages.  It was in  three counties Marion, Lake and Sumter.  I had a waiting list people could sign in my entrance area, and they would see how long my waiting list was. 

One night after a few drinks George had questioned me about my work, and when I had explained it to him his comment was, “Man what a job, rubbing tits of old babes all day.  I want a job like that!”

I said then, “Sometimes breasts are a problem area with woman, and men.  I evaluate and recommend various treatments when it is needed.”

“I can think of some body treatments I’d like to give woman as part of my regular job.”  George said.

The most common complaints, that I didn’t discuss with George were: pain, sex, and concerns about death.  Using life study principles I was good at suggestions about all three of those things.

I often, in my days work checked the hands flexibility, based on age.  Feet were especially important, often I worked with feet and hands for hours every week if the particular patient came back as prescribed.  Some of my women patients called me Magic Fingers, because of how I touched them so gently and effectively.  My fingers brought them relief.  I did give certain ones pills for general health and mood control.

The first day, after I bought George’s family, the wife and older daughter cried and shook with fear at my presence.  My first mistake was feeling their bodies.  They didn’t know me, and my handling of them terrorized them at first.

After all in my daily work people paid me to analyze their bodies.  These women were my paid for slaves and why should they not be thankful for their master feeling them?  Well they were terrified, only the younger girl was really receptive of my attentions.  All of them tried to smile, but it was not much of a sincere smile if tears are freely flowing.

My apartment consisted of rally one large room where there were two chairs, a single bed, my fancy hand carved table with its legs decorated by elephants.  It was something that should be in a museum.  I bought it with money I got from a dead client who left me in her will.  Also my walls were filled by cat pictures.  A client painted cats and gave me the large oils and decorated my entrance walls with lions, tigers and even common house cats.  There were no private rooms for slaves, so I could see my slave women wherever they were in the space.

As I indicated Mary the young daughter seemed to be happy to be my slave and so I first tried her sexually.  She seemed to expect my assault on her virginity — and she was a virgin.  She welcomed it as her mother gave a sob once in a while, but trying not to cry.  I told her not to cry.  I started to tell her not to cry or I would whip her, but I had nothing handy to carry out that threat.  I vowed to myself to get a whip tomorrow.  everyone knows that new slaves need discipline.  The young girl was quite vigorous and inventive in her sexual movements — not at all what one would expect from a virgin..  Even girls who had promised me they were virgins when I was a teenager — were truly not.

So I was occupied for a long time on my bed with the girl and at first her sister and mother stood near by and I guess watched.  I really didn’t care that they were watching.  Later I looked over at the other two and they were bowed on their knees by the bed.  It was late and I said, “You two slaves can lay down and go to sleep.”

The mother looked up at me on the bed and said, “Master where should we sleep?”  I was  at first a little dumbfounded at the question, of course these women had always slept on a bed before and they had probably never been around slaves, except on the streets, or in stores.  The streets should have given them knowledge enough.  Sampson the shoe repairman next door to me bought and sold men and women naked by his cash register.  I often drank a little tea with him as we discussed a blond girl collared and chained where all could inspect her when customers came in.  Most city street corners had a hustler selling several men or women (mostly women)  and they were not usually dressed.  You could see that everywhere and didn’t even need to see in households where the slave girl crawled naked and sucked the master’s toes.

I of course told the mother that she could sleep on the floor.  I added, “Mostly owned women don’t sleep in beds.”  She made no reply to that.

So we worked out our domestic arrangements in a few days.  At first I took the mother with me to work.

My thought was that she could greet the clients in my first room.  I found she had been at home all her life and did not possess the ideas necessary to be a greeter.  She was not stupid but afraid.  She ended up my cook and cleaner at home.  She could do wonderful things with just one chicken.

Lucendia the oldest daughter became not only a greeter, but learned to do helpful treatments, the old women loved her hands, about as well as mine.  She made us twice as much money.  I could do more than twice as much work with her hands doing it to.

Mary became my bed mate, and companion when I went out to eat.  She was a great listener.  I realized that I had no one to talk to and I had lots to say.  I had been very lonely.  All three of them became more of my family, and not much slaves. 

Within a year I was richer, happier, and mostly what all four of us did at home was laugh.  None of this would have been possible with marriage. 

I had lost 20 years, the years before George knocked on my door with his family.

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Contact Ray Cates by commenting here, or write the author at: rcates2@cox.net   Fax him at:  1-352-629-1573

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