“What’s wrong?” I asked.“I need money again”“Why, aren’t you working?”She began crying, “I was fired!”“Why?”“Well, it’s a ...ong story and I don’t feel like telling all of it right now. I need money, though.”“How much?”“A lot.” she replied.“Ok, well, you know what you have to do, right?”“Yes, yes, fuck niggers, right?”“Right!” “So, you need a lot of money which I’m willing to help you with, but I’m pimpin your white pussy out to black men, do you understand me?”“Yea”“I don’t want to hear no. My ass was firm, but slightly plump. It looked youthful and still had a slight layer of bouncy baby-fat on it. When standing, my ass created just the tiniest amount of cleavage between the cheek and the thigh. It was there, but still wasn't enough to hold a pencil up. The only boyfriend I'd ever had sex with had told me in high school that I should take up modeling because I had a butt that movie stars looked for when they needed a double for nude scenes. But I was much too shy for that.I. She might come across as snobbish and reserved at first sight but i saw the passionate and the smartness she had in her. Yes I get turned on by intelligent women who can carry on a good conversation. Her tits were big enough, plump enough to show the maturity and nourishment it had for those years.Her neck, flowing to lovely curve to her shaped shoulders. The shoulders I noticed the first time I saw her with her shoulder exposed top.Her waist line had the kind of curves i love. The hourglass. We almost fell out of our chairs.The dress was exceedingly short with an open bodice. The ruffled lace hem did not hide her lower moons, nor did it hide much in front. Were it not for the white apron, we could have easily seen her pussy. The tiny apron just barely hid her cleft, coming just below the juncture of her thighs. She wore wide-pattern fish net stockings and a pair of five-inch heels. The waist pinched in tight and flared to the bust line. The wired top cupped her breasts, presenting.