Mama Black Widow Read Online Free Page A

like they used to be things are getting groovy about now. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”
    Lucy smiled slyly and said, “The hell you say. You’re going to get into some pretty clothes and go to that party. They wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t bring you.”
    She went to the closet. I stood there with my head in an euphoric whirl and watched her rummage for a dress for me.
    I wanted to shout out, “Lucy, forget it. I’m not going to that faggot party.”
    But I couldn’t make the words come out. The pill and the alcohol and that bitch, Sally, were too powerful to resist. Incredibly, I vibrated at the prospect that I might see Mike again.
    Thirty minutes later I had put on a padded bra and dressed. I stood wide-eyed and thrilled before the full-length mirror on the closet door. I was dazzling in the shimmery white silk microdress and blue-black wig that hung to my shoulders in Grecian curls.My size-six feet were elegant in white satin squared-toe pumps with rhinestone buckles.
    I stepped closer to the mirror. Lucy clipped mock pearl earrings to my earlobes. I gazed at my huge hazel eyes flashing emerald sparks beneath the curly canopies of dark auburn lashes.
    Despite my age, my smooth yellow skin still stretched tautly over my high cheek-boned face. My full lips were curvy and glistening beneath pale pink lipstick. Golden freckles speckled my delicate tip-tilted nose. I was enchanted with my face. I really was. I guess I loved it so much because it was Papa’s face in every detail.
    Lucy said, “Tilly, I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it now. You are the creamiest thing in drag I’ve ever seen. Thousands of women in Chicago would froth at the mouth with joy if they had your legs and face and could wiggle inside a size ten dress the way you do.
    â€œThat round rear end of yours is so sexy a goddamn vice cop wouldn’t wake up that you’re not really a glamorous twenty-five-year-old broad. Take this mink stole, bag and gloves. Let me put a spot of perfume behind your ears. Now let’s drop another pill and get the hell out of here.”
    It was 1 A.M. when we got to the street teeming with cars and people. Under the crazy hypnosis of pills and alcohol I had the strange feeling I was in a fantastic flower garden, hearing the hum and buzz of insects. Bright neon blossoms flashed, rippled and sparkled in the bewitched night.
    One of a gang of young guys in a car at the curb shouted at Lucy as we passed. “Lucy, you know you can’t handle cunt. Bring that beautiful bitch back here and let me sock this nine inches to her.”
    I tossed my hips and giggled when I suddenly remembered that a killjoy I vaguely knew as Otis Tilson wasn’t around to squelch my fun.
    I felt positively beautiful. I was like an awed spectator watching myself reveling in the absolute surrender to the freak bitch, Sally.
    I had to park half a block away from Stel’s place because of thestring of cars bumper to bumper. Lucy and I stood on the porch of the fourteen-room house pressing the doorbell again and again. Finally we heard footsteps and someone opened the peephole. The door swung open, and we stepped into a white-carpeted entrance hall.
    Torchy, a young blond queen in a bloodred mini, said excitedly, “Lucy, Tilly, follow me. You’re just in time for some sport. Stel’s Penny was out with some stud since yesterday morning. She came home fifteen minutes ago, stoned out of her mind with a raunchy cunt. Stel is furious. Everybody’s in the barroom catching the scene.”
    We followed Torchy down a flight of rear stairs to the barroom that had once been a basement. It was the Mecca for many of the Westside black and white queers. It was spacious and had all of the fixtures and geegaws of a commercial bar.
    About forty laughing people, black and white, encircled an attraction of some kind at the rear of the room. I heard muffled screams. We went