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CAUTION: This story is not politically correct. It includes the humiliation and degradation of willing and maybe not so willing black women. The "n" word is used liberally.
by Neal
The night before her interview, Tamika barely slept. When her cell phone rang around ten that morning, she was sitting at the kitchen table with her mother. After saying hello, she bolted to her bedroom, leaving her mother sitting there with a surprised look on her face.
"Sorry about that," Tamika apologized when she returned. "I have to go out later..."
"On a Saturday?" asked her mother.
"It's a... job interview," answered Tamika.
"I thought you had a job," replied her mother.
"I do, but this might be better money," said Tamika. "Maybe enough to take care of the bills."
"What kind of job?" asked her mother, the older woman's eyes narrowing.
"Um..., it's kind of a vacation resort...," Tamika answered. "They pay really well."
"I see," her mother responded dubiously. "What would you be doing?"
"I dunno yet," said Tamika. "That's part of what I'll find out at the interview. I better get ready."
* * *
Tamika took the bus to the interview site, an office in a converted factory on the other side of town. Her mother hadn't asked any more questions, but the girl felt guilty and even dirty for being so evasive. She'd dressed in her best business outfit, a wool skirt, white blouse, and jacket. She'd even spent a good deal of time getting her make up right so she'd look her best.
Walking from the bus stop, Tamika's stomach was in knots. With each step she felt more and more apprehensive and filled with doubt. What was she doing? Could she really bring herself to sell herself into slavery even if only for a few months? Was it really worth it? She reminded herself that she was only there to listen and hear the details of the whole deal. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Since it was Saturday, Tamika wasn't surprised to find the parking lot fairly empty at the old factory office building. Decades earlier, this had been a manufacturing facility but a few years ago it was gutted and turned into offices. With the current economic situation, many of the offices were unoccupied and a big "Offices For Lease" sign was hanging from the building.
Going up the stairs, she found the office she'd been directed to. There was no name on the door, only the number. The window in the door was frosted and she couldn't see inside. Tamika decided to knock before entering.
"It's open," called a voice from inside.
Fighting the urge to turn and walk away, Tamika let herself in. The room was small and unfurnished. Across the room was another door. It was open and a slender white man with light brown hair stood in the doorway. He appeared to be around forty years old and was dressed in khaki slacks and a blue oxford sport shirt.
"Tamika?" asked the man.
"Yes...," Tamika answered nervously.
"I'm Mister Smith," said the man. "Come in."
Smith, huh? Tamika caught herself before rolling her eyes. Stepping though the doorway, she found herself in a very large empty room with a very high ceiling with exposed beams. This must have been a manufacturing area way back when. A few steps inside the door stood a table with a couple of metal folding chairs around it. The only other furnishings in the room were an old metal office desk with an equally old swivel chair next to it. Stacked nearby were what appeared to be cubicle wall dividers.
Tamika hadn't been sure what to expect, but this certainly wasn't it. This was supposed to be the offices of a resort island run by a mysterious company that recruited slave girls. But, their office looked like something left behind after the previous tenant had moved out and Mister Smith wouldn't have looked out of place at the brokerage office. It was distinctly underwhelming.
Mister Smith took a seat on the far side of the table. Tamika sat down facing him.
"So, Tamika, tell me what you know about our company," said Mister Smith.
"Well... uh... you got a island resort... for... uh... rich folks... white folks... to go an' see what the ol' days... when there was still slaves... were like," said Tamika.
"That's essentially correct," said Mister Smith. "What do you know about what you'd be doing for us?"
"Um..., I guess... I'd be doin' stuff... like a... slave or somethin'...," Tamika told him.
"What kind of stuff?" asked Mister Smith.
Tamika could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead and she felt a little light headed. The inauspicious surroundings were fading from her consciousness and the unassuming white man was becoming more intimidating in her mind. She was having a hard time getting the words to come out.
"Well... you know..., cookin' an' cleanin' an' stuff," she answered
"Stuff?" he prodded.
"Yeah..., you know..., sex stuff," she replied. "I guess pretty much what the... white folks... want."
"Do you think you'd be able to do that?" asked Mister Smith.
"I... dunno," answered Tamika. "I guess so..."
"I see," he responded. "Why would you want to do this?"
"Well, I guess 'cause I need the money," she admitted. "My friend tol' me it pays real good."
"It can," Mister Smith said. "Now, did you bring the statements and bills?"
"Yeah," said Tamika, opening her purse.
Fishing the envelopes out of her purse with sweaty hands, Tamika lay them on the table. Mister Smith picked them up and slowly looked them over. Telling this stranger that she was willing to be a slave at some vacation resort was embarrassing enough, but revealing the debts to him left her feeling naked and exposed. The colored girl sat nervously and waited for the few minutes it took the white man to review everything.
"All right," said Mister Smith, putting the papers down. "I think we can take care of this for you, assuming you're accepted and you agree to our terms."
"You can?" replied Tamika hopefully. "What do you mean by takin' care of it?"
"We can have these accounts paid in full," he said. "You'd owe nothing on them."
"Are you serious?" she asked, incredulously. "That's a lot of money."
"Yes, it is," said Mister Smith. "Naturally, we'd expect a lot in return. You'd be signing a contract of indentured servitude at the resort for a term of six months. The contract is legally binding in the country where the resort is located. It would be held by the company, but could be sold to our guests who are free to resell it themselves. You'd be expected to obey the wishes of the contract owner for the duration. Do you understand that?"
"Uh..., yes...," Tamika replied.
Tamika heard the door in the front office open and close. A few seconds later, the door to the room she was in opened up. A pudgy white man with thinning, graying hair walked into the room. He wore dark slacks and a white shirt. The colored girl's anxiety increased.
"Ah, Doctor Jones," said Mister Smith. "You're just in time. She'll be ready for you in a few minutes."
Doctor? Tamika turned back towards Mister Smith.
"What's a doctor gonna do?" she asked.
"Given the nature of the work you'd be doing, we need to perform a thorough physical examination," he explained. "The doctor will write a report and I'll send it along with these financial statements, as well as my own recommendations, to our home office for their consideration."
"A physical?" Tamika asked, her eyes wide. "Right here?"
"Yes," answered Mister Smith. "Is that a problem?"
"But..., but..., I hardly know you...," she started. "An'... I don't know him..., the doctor..., at all!"
"True," he agreed. "However, the exam is required. Don't worry, even our guests are required to pass it, though, naturally, for paying customers we have more pleasant facilities. Anyways, you'll have to trust us at some point so it might as well be now. If you can't, we'll end the interview here."
"What do I have to do?" she asked.
"Whatever the doctor says," he answered.
"O... kay...," Tamika stammered.
"Good," smiled Mister Smith. "Doctor, she's ready for you."
"All right," said Doctor Jones. "Take your clothes off."
"What?!" exclaimed Tamika.
"It's a physical exam, girl," explained the doctor, exasperated. "So get your clothes off."
"Where... do... I..., you know..., get undressed?" asked Tamika.
"Right here," Doctor Jones answered. "Where else? Let's go."
Slowly, Tamika stood up. She took her jacket off and put it over the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. The two white men's eyes were fixed on her as she unbuttoned her blouse. After some hesitation, she took off the blouse and put it on top of her jacket. Standing there in her bra, she felt naked.
"C'mon, girl," the doctor prodded impatiently. "Get a move on. We don't have all day."
Taking hold of the zipper on the side of her skirt, Tamika pushed it down. Her skirt fell around her feet. Stepping out of it, she bent down and picked the garment up, placing it on the chair.
"Okay," she said, holding her arm across her bra. "I'm ready."
"Like hell you are!" exclaimed Doctor Jones. "Get your damn clothes off, you dumb nigger! You're still in your underwear!"
"What did you just say?" asked Tamika, anger starting to overshadow her embarrassment.
"I said get your damn clothes off, you dumb nigger," repeated the doctor. "Don't tell me you're deaf, too!"
"Hell, no," said Tamika, picking her skirt up and putting it on. "I ain't takin' my damn clothes off an' don't you ever use that word at me!"
Her skirt on, Tamika put on her blouse without bothering to tuck it in.
"Well, it doesn't look like you'd do well at our resort," said Mister Smith. "You'd be naked most of the time, and you'd hear "nigger" more often than your own name."
Tamika put her jacket on and started for the door.
"Don't forget your papers," called Mister Smith.
Her face burning, Tamika went back to the table and snatched the papers up off it before storming out of the office. Once she was in the main hallway, she tucked in her blouse and buttoned her jacket before heading out of the building and walking to the bus stop.
Tamika fumed silently to herself the entire bus ride back home. How dare they! Mister Smith was a little creepy, but the doctor was just rude and a racist besides.
"How did it go?" her mother asked when Tamika returned. "Don't look like it went too good."
"No it didn't," answered Tamika shortly, walking quickly to her room.
As she changed out of her interview clothes, Tamika started to calm down. She shouldn't have been surprised by the doctor's attitude. She'd been applying for a job as a slave, after all, and a black slave at that. Naturally she'd have to be naked. Naturally they'd use those kinds of words towards her. What had she been thinking? How could she have even considered it?
* * *
As the week went by, Tamika tried to put the interview behind her. The worst part, she thought, was how her hopes had been raised and then dashed. Yes, there was way out from under all this debt. However, the price would be steep. Not only would she have to surrender her body, but her pride as well. It was just too much. Somehow, she'd find a way to get the situation under control without having to submit to such degradation.
Friday was payday. Tamika had wanted to splurge a little, but she knew that every dollar was going to paying the most urgent of the bills. Despite the payments, the phone calls continued. Even though she never picked up, it was still depressing.
Over the weekend, she'd thought about calling Chantelle and telling her about what happened. However, Tamika was still too embarrassed over the whole thing. After all, her friend had somehow put up with that kind of treatment and was currently enjoying her reward for it. All at once she felt demeaned by the ordeal as well as inadequate for not being able to take it. It was humiliating on so many levels.
* * *
Monday morning, Tamika arrived at work and was just sitting down at her desk when her supervisor approached her. Gwen was usually friendly and the middle aged white lady used to ask her about her weekend and how her mother was doing. Today, she was all business.
"Miss Thompson, I need to talk to you," said Gwen.
Tamika followed Gwen to her office.
"Sit down, please," Gwen instructed her.
Sitting down, Tamika knew something wasn't right. Then Gwen handed her an envelope. She looked up at her supervisor with a puzzled look on her face.
"I'm afraid the brokerage has suffered some setbacks," Gwen explained. "We won't be able to keep you on. You did fine work for us, but with the current economic situation and market conditions we have no choice but to cut staff. I'm so sorry."
"But...," Tamika started to say. "I..."
"It wasn't an easy decision to make," said Gwen. "But, as the most recent hire, you were the logical choice. Actually, we're having to let four other staff go, too. It's terrible. I was able to get you two weeks pay, but that's all since you hadn't worked here very long."
So, ten minutes after arriving at work, Tamika was on the bus headed home. How could this have happened?
Back home, Tamika's mother was sitting at the kitchen table.
"Mika?" she said. "Ain't you feelin' well?"
"I got laid off," said Tamika. "I guess the market is down or somethin'..."
"I'm sorry, girl," replied her mother. "Don't worry... we'll get by. You'll find somethin'."
Perhaps, thought Tamika. But, what would that something be?
* * *
As the week went on, the news was filled with more reports of the market downturn which was hitting the financial sector especially hard. Employment prospects looked bleak. By the time Friday rolled around, Tamika was feeling desperate. She had to talk to someone, and Chantelle was the only one who knew of her dilemma, so she called her up.
"Hi, Mika," Chantelle greeted her on the phone. "Wha's up? Did you ever meet those guys?"
"Hi," Tamika replied. "Yeah... It didn't go so well."
"Really?" asked Chantelle. "What happened?"
"It was okay at first," Tamika explained. "There was this one white guy... Smith... He asked me... embarrassin' stuff, but it was cool, I guess. Then this other guy comes in, some fat older guy. Supposed to be a doctor, I guess. Did you have to get a physical exam?"
"Yeah," answered Chantelle. "It was part of the interview."
"I guess I wasn't ready...," said Tamika. "That doctor tol' me to take my clothes off an' he was pretty rude about it. The fat bastard called me a dumb nigger!"
"Well, they do talk like that, girl," said Chantelle. "It was all nigga this an' nigga that on that island. You jus' get used to it. An' you is pretty much naked all the time, like I was sayin' before."
"I know...," sighed Tamika. "But it jus' pissed me off at the time."
"So I guess you ain't goin' down there," said Chantelle. "You got somethin' else goin' on?"
"No," Tamika replied. "Not only that, but I got laid off from my job."
"That sucks," said Chantelle. "What you gonna do?"
"I don't know," Tamika told her. "I was thinkin' 'bout callin' that resort place again, but I figure they ain't gonna wanna talk to me now. I kinda jus' walked out on 'em."
"Was they pissed?" asked Chantelle.
"Not really," Tamika answered. "Mister Smith jus' gave me my papers back an' that fat doctor didn't say nothin'."
"They mus' be used to that kinda thing," said Chantelle. "They ain't gonna take it personal, not the staff anyways. They know it takes time fo' a girl to get used to bein' a nigga slave an' shit like that's gonna happen. Hell, it happened down on the island, too. Nigga get all pissed at 'em. Course, down there, they jus' give you a whuppin' fo' actin' up. Hell, some of them guests like a girl actin' up 'cause they like puttin' a nigga in her place. Don't take long 'fore she's all "I's sorry, boss," an' "I's jus' a dumb nigga, boss," an' that's the end of it."
Tamika swallowed hard. Apologizing for standing up for herself was humiliating. But, the alternative was none to pleasant, either. She was out of options.
"So, you think if I called an' apologized they'd give me another chance?" asked Tamika.
"Probably," answered Chantelle. "But if they do, you better not fuck up again. Least ways, not before you is signed up an' yo' shit is paid for."
"I won't," Tamika replied.
"Let me know what happens," Chantelle requested.
"Okay," said Tamika. "Later."
"Later," Chantelle said back and hung up.
Tamika pressed the end button on the phone and paused for a moment. Summoning up what courage she could, she clicked back on the call history until the number she'd used to call the resort recruiter's number appeared on the display. Her stomach was jumping as she pressed the call button.
"Hello?" a male voice answered.
"Hi," said Tamika. "I... uh... had an interview a couple weeks ago an'... well... there was a... misunderstanding... I was hopin' that maybe I could have another chance."
"I see," replied the voice. "Your name?"
"Tamika."
"Ah, yes," said the voice. "I remember."
"Mister Smith?" asked Tamika.
"Yes," he replied.
"I'm... sorry about how I acted," she apologized. "I wasn't ready for..., you know..."
"Are you ready now?" asked Mister Smith.
"Yes, I am," Tamika answered.
"We'll be at the same place as before tomorrow," he responded. "Be there at ten. Bring the papers."
"Okay," she replied. "Thanks..."
Click.
Relieved, Tamika closed the cell phone. Her concern that she'd blown the only opportunity to fix her money problems was replaced with anxiety about another humiliating meeting with Mister Smith and Doctor Jones. Just the thought of having to let those two see her naked sent cold shivers down her back. However, she was painfully aware that she had little choice.
Next: Chapter 3 - Tamika's Second Interview
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