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his right arm and the middle finger of his hand. “Hold it with both hands,” he said. With her hands grasping his finger the tip of it with the long dirty fingernail was still exposed. “Suck it. Suck it clean,” he ordered. She sucked. His finger tasted of sweat. She could feel the grit under the nail. He grinned at her. “Look at me while you suck. You like suckin the black man’s fingers, don’t you?” She nodded and swirled her tongue around and under the pointed fingernail. He leaned forward not smiling now, “Suck harder, bitch,” he hissed. “Take more of it. Suck it clean.” She released one hand and took most of his finger into her mouth. She could feel the sharp point of the nail against the inside of her cheek. Abruptly he withdrew his finger. She could feel her heart pounding. Her breath was coming quickly. She looked up at him, waiting.
    “Show me your tits,” he said. She pulled the capped sleeves off her shoulders and pushed the top of the dress down until her breasts were bared for him. The long pink nipples became darker and stuck straight out. “You like showin me your tits?”
    She had trouble speaking, “Yes, yes I do,” she said.
    “That necklace and ankle bracelet of yours says you a white woman for blacks. Is that true?”
    “Yes, it’s true.”
    “I take that to mean you give yourself only to the black man. Maybe since you had some black cock you got to lovin it, maybe more than lovin it. I heard of some white women who worship black cock. Is you one of them?”
    “I…I’m not sure,” she stammered. He leaned forward. She could see the anger in his eyes. “Yes, yes, I guess I am,” she said..
    “Any black man ever leave his mark on you?”
    “No, I don’t know what…”
    “I want you to take this fingernail you made clean,” he held the finger out to her again, and mark one of your tits.”
    Maureen felt a wave of heat spread over her breasts and flow down to her crotch. She moved closer between his legs and took the extended finger between her hands again. Looking up at him she said, “Please, I don’t…don’t know how….”
    “Make a mark.” She continued to look up at him puzzled. “Draw blood,” he said.
    She looked down at his finger then back at him. He placed the tip of his finger against her lips. She kissed it. “Tell me what you want,” he said.
    “Your mark. I want your mark on my breast.”
    “Then do it,” he ordered.
    She inched closer and, holding his finger tightly with one hand, she placed the pointed nail under the nipple of her left breast. With her other hand she held the breast steady. Closing her eyes, she quickly pushed the fingernail up slightly breaking the skin. A thin trickle of blood ran over the nail and the tip of Mufta’s finger and then down her breast.
    Mufta put his finger in his mouth and sucked it. “Now I got a white woman’s blood in my veins ,” he said. He handed her a Kleenex. “And what you got, Mrs. O’Donnel?”
    She dabbed at the cut and wiped the blood from her breast. “I have your mark,” she said.
    “You ain’t Sam’s woman. He just paid for you for tonight, ain’t that right?”
    “I belong to Travis, Travis Henry. I’m his woman.” Just saying that she belonged to Travis caused a wave of heat to wash over her body. “Sam paid to have me for fifteen hours.”
    “How much?”
    “He said a hundred dollars an hour. Fifteen hundred.”
    “Sam ain’t got that kind of money. He must of killed somebody.” Maureen was silent. The thought that she might be forced to take a killer back into her house had been uppermost in her mind all night.
    Mufta leaned back in the chair and nodded thoughtfully, “So, you is Travis’s woman. He’s a big mean bastard I got no fuckin use for. How long you knowed him?”
    “Two weeks.” It was hard for her to believe two short weeks ago she’d been a normal, contented wife and mother living in a nice suburban all white neighborhood.
    “You should know my