My Wife is Out on the Streets

“Tell your bitch she’s gonna get out and hit the streets this evening and make me some money,” Biggs, my wife’s lover/Black Master, barked at me on the phone. “And tell her not to return home until she does.”

I returned home from work and told Jenny what her lover had told me to tell her. He gave me an address and told me to deposit Jenny at the junction. A car would pick her up. He didn’t mention who would be driving or where whoever it was would take her, and I didn’t bother about asking questions. Biggs usually doesn’t tolerate those, especially when coming from me. He demanded that we follow through on whatever instructions he gave us, claiming it was for our benefit. There was no room to protest since we signed our Black-Ownership agreement with him weeks ago. Whatever Biggs said is what we usually obey.

Jenna wasn’t supposed to leave until the late hours of the night. I arrived home at 6:21 p.m. and went inside to deliver the news; Biggs had already called, so she was well aware; he mentioned there would be several men she would be servicing. The next thing to do was to get her ready. I made her take a warm bath and oil herself while I thought of what she should wear for the evening. She needed to wear something suggestively enticing but not too outrageous to be considered a walking girl should any cop or other prostitutes decide to hassle her.

We ate dinner and talked about what the evening might be for Jenna. She thought of the men that would pick her up, wondering if possibly they might be from out of town. Biggs may have already demanded payment from them since they would merely pick her up. Would they intend to keep her for the night only? Who the fuck knew. We drank wine while mulling over the night’s many possibilities.