Loading...LeRoy was sitting on the porch, rocking and rubbing the head of that old hound dog of his, as Dinah walked up the stone path from the mailbox at the edge of the muddy road. She had walked slow up from the bus stop in the nearest town, at the mouth of a fold back into the Blue Ridge. The suitcase she was lugging, balanced on the other side by her guitar case, was heavy, but she wasn’t walking slow because of that weight. She was weighed down by something more serious than that.
She worried that LeRoy would know it as soon as he saw her—that, like his momma, he could see guilt from miles away—or maybe that he could smell it on her. She’d be in for quite a licking if he did. And that would probably be the least of her worries.
LeRoy turned a wary eye on her as she approached. Chester, the hound dog, looked up, starting a woof as he did, but seeing that it was his master’s woman—and no threat to him in the pecking order around here—he just yawned, lowered his muff to between his splayed legs again, and snorted off into sleep.
“Did’ja bring back enough to leave somethin’ after paying for the trip and makin’ up for your absence?” LeRoy asked when Dinah had reached the bottom step of the rickety porch. “You know I tol’ you this nonsense would stop if it didn’t more than pay for itself.”
Dinah sighed, set the suitcase down on the hardscrabble that passed for a lawn at the fringe of the porch steps, placed the guitar case on top of that, and climbed the steps. She crossed over LeRoy’s foot without him moving it and sank into the other rocker, with a second sigh.
“Here. $500. Hope that’s enough,” she said as she scrounged around in her purse and came up with an envelope stuffed with fifty-dollar bills.
LeRoy seemed ready to say something before she’d gotten the bills out of her purse, but he clamped his mouth shut as he closed his hand over the proffered money. The bills were still in Dinah’s hand when he did that. LeRoy stood up from the rocker, still holding Dinah’s hand in his grip. “Well, let’s go into the house then. I want some.”
“Oh, LeRoy,” Dinah answered, trying to keep the tired whine out of her voice. “It’s afternoon yet. And I’ve just walked the five miles from town—after the long bus ride from Roanoke—and there’s some chores needin’ done, I’m sure.”
“You been gone five days, Dinah. What’ja expect I’d want when you got back? Git on in the house now.”
Chester raised his head and gave a little growl as Dinah walked past him into the house. Greenbacks didn’t impress him much—nor did the woman’s reappearance in his life.
LeRoy had his pants and briefs off before Dinah had even gotten the buttons undone on her shirtdress, and he hiked her dress up around her hips as he pushed her back onto the bed and slapped her legs apart. Dinah could see that he was more than ready and she wasn’t going to be given enough time.
But mostly she was worried that he’d smell the other man on her. She’d gone back to her hotel room and spent close to an hour in the shower trying to scrub the man off her, but she was afraid her sin was written right across her forehead.
“If you’ll just give me . . . oh, gawd, LeRoy.”
“Fuck, you’re dry,” he complained. LeRoy pulled his cock back out of her, spit on his hand and rubbed that on his cock and gave it another go.
“Oh, ohhhh.” Dinah turned her head to the wall, as LeRoy grunted and groaned and started to pump her, increasing the friction as his cock slickened up inside her.
Any minute now she expected him to stop and hold and snarl his usual, “You been with another man, haven’t you?” But it never came. LeRoy was concentrating hard on getting his own pleasure out of her. And it not coming was kind of funny, since this is the first time her answer would have to be “yes.”
He hadn’t even asked her what she’d won the $500 for.
“LeRoy, baby,” she murmured, warming to the churning of the cock inside her. “I done pretty good in Roanoke, honey. Won the talent contest and then . . .” She made the mistake of looking up into his face as he hunched over her. Other than having her cunt to work with, LeRoy wasn’t there at all. He was concentrating on his rhythm and trying to get deeper inside her with each thrust. She covered her breasts with her hands and pinched her nipples, sighing as much from what she was doing to herself as from what LeRoy was doing between her legs. LeRoy was hardbodied and hard cocked and young and nice enough to look at. She’d concentrate on that.
The man in Roanoke had been older and stubbier, but at least he’d given her some time and attention. He’d liked her tits right much. She didn’t have to squeeze and work them herself when he was fucking her.
It wasn’t her first beauty pageant—she’d had to win a few to get this far—but it was sort of make-or-break time for her now. There hadn’t been too many Miss Virginias older than she would be come November. The state pageant was held down in Roanoke, and it had been hell to pay to get LeRoy to let her go from out of their southwest Virginia hollow to compete. She was sure if the event had been held in Norfolk, he wouldn’t have let her go, like he didn’t let her go last year when it was in northern Virginia. Roanoke was farther away then he’d ever let her travel before.
He was jealous that way, even though it usually seemed that he cared more for his hound than for her. But she’d shown him the list of prize money, and he’d begrudgingly told her she could try it, although it looked like a lot of foolishness to him. When she’d asked him if he was coming to cheer her on, he just gave her his “are you from outer space?” look and asked her if she didn’t realize how important his job was down at the garage in town.
When Dinah had won the talent contest with her singing and guitar playing, she realized for the first time that she had a shot at the finals. The top woman went straight to the nationals with the Miss Virginia title, and the next two would get to go on to Nashville for a regional Miss South contestant to also go to the national pageant.
She reasoned later that this had probably been her downfall, what had led her into sin—the glimmer of a hope for getting further.
She’d been in the ballroom of the Hotel Roanoke convention center, waiting along with all of the other girls for the construction workers and designers to stop fussing on stage so that they could practice their evening gown walk when she’d heard the page over the loudspeaker.
“Miss Worthington . . . Miss Pulaski, to the reception desk, please.” That was her, Dinah. Both of them were her. She was a Worthington. LeRoy was a Scragg, but, thankfully she was still a Worthington. But she also was Miss Pulaski. That was her title—the town she represented in the pageant.
When she went to hotel reception, the man behind the desk held out a folded note to her. “Please meet me in the Starbucks three blocks to the north. Now,” was what was written, but what was important was that it was signed, “One who can make a difference.”
As soon as she saw him sitting there, drinking his coffee inside the Starbucks, Dinah knew what this was about. It was the head judge of the pageant.
Perhaps if this wasn’t probably her last-chance year—and more perhaps if she hadn’t won the talent contest and wasn’t standing at least on the lower step of the finals podium already—and perhaps if her life wasn’t just too, too dreary to not try to break out of, Dinah wouldn’t have gone to the nearby motel with the man. But she did.
He wasn’t all that bad—in the dark. And once he’d gotten started, he actually was a lot better than LeRoy, who was the only one Dinah had to make a comparison with.
He’d made her undress for him and practice her walk. He even gave her pointers on how to improve that. He told her she was a shoo-in to win and go on to the next level and that he could make that happen—for someone who made him happy.
He’d stood and pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips, which she wasn’t all that wild about, but then moved down to kissing her on the nipples, which she liked a lot—it was something LeRoy never bothered to give her.
There were only two tense moments. Although Dinah had been genuinely apprehensive and was shy with him, she’d known as soon as she walked into the Starbucks what he wanted—and what she wanted and, backed into a corner, was willing to do for it. The first “off” moment came when he sat her down on the edge of the bed, unzipped himself, held a half-hard cock out, and made clear that she was supposed to play with it with her mouth.
Dinah had never done this before, and she couldn’t stomach doing it now—even though she knew what she’d come here for, and what she’d be giving up if she didn’t.
There was a little flash of anger in his eyes—which was repeated when she asked him if they could do it in the dark, but he’d obviously come there and risked what he had with her for more than a cocksucking bathed in bedside lamplight, so he switched off the lights and returned to stand below her and gently move her thighs apart.
There was enough light coming around the edges of the badly tailored drapes at the motel room window for him to see her and for Dinah to know at least that there was a man between her legs.
Then he hunched over her and kissed and licked down her body. When he was finished at her breasts, she was sighing and wishing LeRoy would do this. When his lips and tongue were working at the entrance below her triangle, she was wondering if LeRoy even knew what a clit was and had any idea how much more enjoyment he could get out of sex if he knew what to do with one. And when she was slick and open and the judge had entered her and was playing her like a violin with a cock that, not impressive in itself, at least had been able to find all of her pleasure spots, she—at least momentarily—forgot all about LeRoy.
Only later did she feel the guilt, and her greatest sin was that she didn’t feel the guilt until she had won the second runner-up spot. She was sure that he had promised her the crown.
When she had managed to maneuver him to where only he could hear her whisper and had voiced her pique, he merely smiled and murmured that he’d only said she’d win—not what she’d win—and he went on to say that if she had really wanted the crown, she should have given him head with the lights on, like the new Miss Virginia had. Still, he said, she indeed was beautiful and a sweet fuck—and she sang “real purty.”
Months later she would feel fortunate that she hadn’t won the crown—that she’d gone to Nashville rather than straight to Atlantic City.
“Not tight enough,” LeRoy was muttering.
For a panicked moment, Dinah feared that the pageant judge had slackened her channel and that this was how LeRoy was going to discover her sin. But then she realized this was highly improbable. LeRoy was a lot thicker than the pageant official was. LeRoy was just wanting his fetish. She moaned. “No LeRoy, please. I just got home. It’s afternoon. So much to . . .”
“Turn over, darlin’. I missed you. Want to show you how much.”
Dinah let out a sob, as LeRoy grabbed her at the waist with both hands and turned her on her stomach on the edge of the bed while pulling out of her cunt with his now-slickened cock.
She gave a cry and arched her back and scrabbled at his hands, managing to move them to her breasts, where he wouldn’t really notice but where it would do her so much good . . . as he skewered her ass channel and slowly shoved his cock up inside her.
Panting hard, Dinah looked toward the doorway at the sound of a noise. Chester was standing there, making little huffing sounds and looking at her with disgust.
Even as she met LeRoy’s primeval urges, she knew she was second best to his hound. And she knew that Chester didn’t care any more than LeRoy did that she was now the second runner-up to Miss Virginia—or even that she’d come home with $500 for that matter.
Not for the first time she wondered how she’d feel if LeRoy asked her to marry him—not that the thought had ever entered his mind, she was sure. But if he did, she knew her world would crumble into nothingness. Whatever she did from this point on in her life, she knew her life was going to have to get better. She’d see to that herself. She was the second runner-up to Miss Virginia.
* * * *
Only in Nashville could Dinah have had the revelation.
As soon as she arrived there for the regional pageant, she realized she was badly out of her depth. There was beauty on all sides of her in the dressing rooms. Perfect beauty. Manufactured beauty. Sculpted and scraped-on beauty. Dinah’s was a natural beauty. That no longer cut it in the realm of beauty pageants. What was interesting, intriguing, attracting in her was a flaw in the eyes of the system at this level.
Reality assaulted her at every turn. She would have been crushed, would have wanted to open her veins and just melt away if . . . if she hadn’t won the talent competition in Nashville just as she had in Roanoke.
This meant she could go home to LeRoy with prize money in hand. He wouldn’t care where it had come from, what part of the competition had provided it. He took her beauty as just his right—his right as the biggest-cocked stud in the Pulaski region—his right to claim the county rose and to pound her with his cock until she was wan and flaccid from too many pregnancies and calloused and worn out from hardscrabble life. That she had a clear-toned mournful soprano voice that could loosen hearts and moisten tear ducts and that was matched with a sure stroke of the guitar strings meant nothing to him. He didn’t even realize it. As far as Dinah knew, LeRoy had never stayed around to hear her sing. All he knew or wanted of her was knowing that by having her, no other man in Pulaski could. To him, she was just the top-prize cunt and ass, and he was the master of those.
Being in Nashville, home of country music, and winning the beauty pageant talent contest with her country music songs provided groundwork for the revelation. Billy Ray Furness provided the rest.
Billy Ray was the darling of the regional pageant. He was about the biggest talent producer in Nashville, and the pageant bowed and scraped to him because he was providing the nationally acclaimed country music legends of song as the glue that would hold the regionally televised final night ceremonies of the pageant together.
Where he walked in the halls of the events pavilion, people genuflected. Whatever he wanted, he got.
The evening of the final judging of talent, he got all starry-eyed at Dinah’s performance. He made no bones about talking it up in the hearing of the judges and Dinah alike. He said she could be a recording star—that he could make her a star and that wouldn’t it be wonderful publicity for the pageant to have the story of a star born on their stage floating around in the national entertainment media?
The selection of Dinah as the winner of that portion of the competition was universal, almost by acclaim. And the applause for her impromptu encore was even more thundering than for her winning performance.
The pageant officials were delighted to provide Billy Ray a very private dressing room backstage when he told them he’d have a proposition to put to Dinah that would launch a major career. The pageant officials were giddy with joy not only on Dinah’s behalf but also on behalf of their publicity department.
The proposition Billy Ray had to give to Dinah, amid declarations of what a star she would be and how closely they could work together as country singer and mentor business manager, was a hard, thick, six-inch cock churning deep inside her cunt. This as she lay back in the corner of the dressing room couch, hips rolling, legs straddling Billy Ray’s waist, giving little yip yip sounds in response to his teething of her nipples and sucking on her lower lip, and thinking only of the career that had opened up to her by coming to Nashville rather than Atlantic City—built not on fleeting physical beauty but on her talent as a country singer.
No matter what else didn’t happen in Nashville, that revelation stuck. She was a star-quality singer.
The next morning, Dinah couldn’t find Billy Ray anywhere, nor could anyone she talked to tell her how she could contact him. And he didn’t contact her either. The city of Nashville had swallowed him up. The closest she got to tracking him down was the vague suggestion that he had left that morning for Los Angeles.
Dinah might have returned to the hollow in the folds of the Blue Ridge in despair if it had not been for the revelation. She need not try to make the most of fleeting beauty. Her voice would far outlast that. She was a country singer. Billy Ray had had his little fun, but the applause in that large auditorium was real. And it had made love to her in ways and to depths no man had.
When she arrived at the mailbox on the verge of the muddy road in a taxi, LeRoy just stood up from his rocker and waited for her to climb the front porch stairs. Chester gave her the usual woof of derision, and LeRoy closed his hand over the one Dinah proffered her contest win prize money in and led her into the farmhouse, wrapped his arm around her belly and drew her to him as he rucked up her skirting and tore away her panties—and, thrusting an impatient cock in her ass, made up for a week of poontang denial.
* * * *
Unsurprisingly, LeRoy hadn’t asked what Dinah had won to be bringing home a good chunk of money—or why she’d driven up in a taxi rather than walking home from the bus station—and, most interesting of all, why she said she had another beauty pageant to go to in Richmond that might last two weeks. She brought money home; and as long as she did that and then bent over and spread her legs for him when she came back, that was enough for LeRoy. He had enough to worry about down at the garage. He didn’t have time to check on whether there was a beauty pageant on in Richmond—couldn’t use the Internet even if he had the curiosity.
LeRoy was so taken with trying to figure out what was going amiss with the transmission on the mayor’s Cadillac that he didn’t even notice that when Dinah left for Richmond, she packed three bags, rather than the one—enough to hold all of her clothes and her momma’s silver—and left in a taxi. Chester noticed, though. He stood on the porch and wagged his tail while Dinah hauled the bags and guitar case out to the taxi in two loads—right under LeRoy’s nose. If it could be said a dog smiled, Chester was smiling. Dinah always did say that Chester had more brains than LeRoy did.
She had made all of the arrangements in Richmond beforehand. A recording studio and an experienced sound technician.
The sound technician was a nice young guy named Mike. He had a great smile, and his body was just fine too—Dinah could tell he worked out a lot.
He was ultrapolite, yes ma’ming her left and right and being real attentive to all of her requests as she sat there, in the recording booth, for hours, and sang her haunting laments, all her own creations—all the flowing forth of short, but hard, years of trials and tribulations.
At one point Dinah looked into the sound booth through the separating glass wall and saw that Mike was crying as his hands danced on the controls, trying to make sure he caught every note and kept up with the dynamics of the sound to preserve it at its best.
After they were done, Dinah just sat there, exhausted, in the silence. No applause, no nothing. She stood up from the stool and walked into the sound booth. Mike was just sitting there, looking down at his controls.
“Well?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear his reaction.
He looked up, and quietly said, “Wow. Just wow.”
Dinah wondered what he meant, though. He was looking vaguely at the level of her tits. But if he thought he was going to get anything, he was sadly mistaken. She’d paid him in cash for his time. She was a little irritated. Is that what they all are thinking of, she wondered. He had seemed to be a nice guy.
“What are you going to do with this recording?” he asked.
“Start trying to sell it around, I guess,” she answered. “I have some addresses in Nashville to send it to. And some leads here in Richmond too. I’ll probably try those first, as I’m already here.” Dinah knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She knew after a couple of weeks she’d have to find some work. She sure as hell knew she wasn’t going back to Pulaski and LeRoy.
“OK if I see if I can get them someplace?” he asked.
“Sure, why not?” she answered.
A week later, Mike called her at her motel and said he might have a proposition for her; could she meet him at the West End Starbucks on Broad Street? It was near her motel; she knew he knew it was near her motel.
Here we go again, she thought. But she was depressed. Nothing had panned out in Richmond yet. She’d found Billy Ray’s address in Nashville and sent the recording off there—as well as to other music producers in Nashville, with no response as yet. She knew she wanted this to move too fast, that she couldn’t really expect to have this soon what she expected and dreamed of—someone to notice her, someone to give her hope. But she couldn’t help herself; she couldn’t stop herself from being impatient. Her life had been on hold too long.
So, OK, if this Mike has a better lead than she had developed so far, yes, she’d spread her legs for him. But he’d better have more than just empty promises. She’d been too far down that road already. It was time for her to be the one using and taking advantage of someone else.
Mike had been particular about the time he wanted to meet at Starbucks. Dinah wondered cattily if that was the only time his wife or girlfriend would let him loose.
He was looking real good when she showed up, nattily dressed, all groomed, like he wanted them to video the results of his proposition—if he got lucky.
“You’re late,” he said. He looked almost panicked about that. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I almost didn’t,” Dinah said. “I’ve been around this proposition in Starbucks deal once too often.”
“Shush,” he said.
“Shush what? Why?” Dinah answered, a little piqued.
“Just shush and listen. Sit down and listen. Listen to the music.”
Dinah sat. And Dinah began to listen. And Dinah realized she was listening to Dinah—coming from the radio. One of her own songs, sung by her. And then, after that ended, she heard another of her songs, again sung by her. Coming over the speakers on the radio.
She was trembling, her palm on top of Mike’s on the table top. She felt him tremble too, enjoying the experience as much as she was—and not just the experience of hearing herself on the radio.
“You got my songs on the radio here in Richmond?” she asked, shocked.
“Yeah. I’ve got a few connections. They ate them right up. And not just here in Richmond. This is a syndicated show. This is going out all over the south.”
Dinah’s cell phone was buzzing. A text message. Billy Ray Furness. “Where did u go? We were going to talk contract. Call me,” it said. Dinah flipped the phone off. She’d see what he had to offer later, but he wasn’t high on her list at the moment.
Mike had done this for her. No strings attached. He’d just gone ahead and done it. Hadn’t demanded or asked anything from her.
“That was a Nashville record producer,” she said. “Already talking recording contract.”
“That’s good. But go slow. There will be others.”
“You’ll help me?”
“If you want. Any way you want.”
They paused, frozen in place, Dinah’s hand on Mike’s again. They were both looking at the hands, as if they probably should let loose, but neither wanted to.
“Should we celebrate? Go someplace and celebrate?” Dinah murmured.
“If you like,” Mike said.
“My motel room OK?” Dinah asked. She was already thinking ahead. She knew he’d be good and attentive and that they’ve come together, knowing that each wanted that. And again.
“Maybe we should go slow on that,” Mike said.
“You don’t want . . .?”
“Sure I do. Of course I do. But you should be sure and shouldn’t, you know, have it be because of any of this. You have more hours at the studio. Do you have any more songs in you?”
“You bet, I do.” And then she smiled. “And I see some happier songs boiling up inside me too.”
Back on the porch of the farmhouse outside of Pulaski, LeRoy was sitting and rocking, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere in back of reviewing the brake relining job he had to do in the morning, that it should be about time for Dinah to be coming come from that fool pageant in Richmond. She’d better have some good cash in hand, was all he thought.
He stirred, hearing the sound of the radio cutting through his other thoughts. Some woman was singing a sad song on the radio. The voice sounded sort of familiar and the song was real pretty. But he couldn’t quite place who was doing the singing.
At his side, flattened out on the worn wood of the porch, Chester, recognizing the voice instantly, put his paws over his ears and emitted a low moan.