Free Caleb by Charles Alverson Page B

blankets covering them both.
    “Wait a minute!”
    “Minute’s up!” Caleb pulled the blankets down, revealing her totally naked body. There were no surprises. The breasts were full but still stood high, the nipples well defined. Her torso tapered to a slim waist before flaring to impressive but still girlish hips. The pubic hair under her tight stomach was the color of smoked honey, and it coiled in a tight triangle that had obviously been trimmed.
    “What you think?” Missy asked in a slightly tight voice. “You want to buy me?”
    “I’m thinking,” Caleb said, reaching out a hand. “Let me just—”
    “Let you just nothing,” Missy said, stopping his hand. “I want to show you somethin’.”
    “What?”
    “Somethin’,” said Missy. “You just keep your big hand to yourself and your bright eyes on the area between my bellybutton and my bush.”
    “Okay,” said Caleb, “but—”
    Before his eyes, the hard, smooth muscles of her stomach seemed to melt until what had been firm, taut flesh was now flaccid. Missy’s body had aged ten years in two seconds.
    “What the hell!” Caleb said before he could stop himself.
    “Pretty, huh?” Missy’s voice was bitter as she pulled the blanket back up. “Had me a baby when I was thirteen, another at sixteen, and one more last year. That will do things to your belly, you believe me.”
    Caleb put his arm around her shoulders, and she didn’t pull away. “Where are they?” he asked.
    Missy shrugged. “Who knows? White men don’t want a girl like me to come complete with no family. They took them away, one after the other, before I could even nurse them. Don’t want to mess up my pretty breasts, you know. Got to keep ’em firm. Massa likes them firm.”
    Caleb felt a tear fall on his chest and pulled her tight to him. He held her until she stopped shaking. “But,” he whispered, “how do you do that thing with your stomach?”
    “Muscle control,” she told him. “Old mammy down New Orleans way showed me how, but I had to study long and so hard. I can hold it twenty minutes now, but it’s getting harder.” Her voice grew confidential. “No white man ever seen the real me.”
    “It’s a good trick,” Caleb said. “Had me fooled.”
    “Has them all fooled,” Missy said. “Now it’s my turn.”
    “To what?” Caleb asked suspiciously.
    “To see! Strip that blanket, boy!”
    Reluctantly, Caleb pulled the blanket down until he was naked to the knees. Missy looked at him appraisingly.
    “Well,” she said, “I can see that you ain’t had no babies yet. Good, wide hips, though—child-bearin’ hips.”
    “Thank you,” Caleb said.
    “But whatever do you do with that thing?” Missy reached down and flicked his limp penis with a forefinger.
    “I’ll show you!” Caleb said, raising his body and rolling over on top of her. He could feel himself getting hard.
    This time the sex was slow, almost loving. Caleb collapsed on top of Missy, exhausted.
    “My,” Missy said after a while, tangling her fingers in his kinky hair. “You were a hungry boy. What do you usually do?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “For a woman, sex, pussy?”
    “There’s a girl down in the quarter. She meets me now and again in one of the barns.”
    “I hope she’s clean,” said Missy.
    “I hope you’re clean,” Caleb replied.
    “Don’t you worry ’bout that. Massa took me to a doctor in Cassatt, and that white doctor gave me a clean bill of health. Massa don’t want no diseases.”
    “Me neither.” A little later, Caleb looked at the sunlight on his bedroom wall. “Hey, girl, we have to get moving.”
    “Do we have to?”
    “You know we do. No telling who’s going to be wandering up here to the house.”
    “They’re all drunk and asleep in the quarter.”
    “Don’t count on that—not if you want to stay sweet with Master.”
    “Oh, all right.” Missy started to move, but Caleb stopped her.
    “First we got to get some things