The Fan Letter

Usually when the book first comes out the author goes on a book tour. My book  Slavery in Florida spread like a blazing regional fire for a year and then when it was in a rage of  screaming on both sides, a year later, my editors begged me to go on the road and get into the media.

Without the tour I had made so much money on the book that I bought up three more farms near mine.  Max was the general manager of my farms.  So I was free to travel with Betham.  My editor now read all the letters that came in about the book and sent me the best ones.  The letters mostly were about Betty and Sherill.  Both were indentured slaves and my editor Jack Frost wanted them on the tour with me.

I was not going to book stores and sign books,  but I was appearing at colleges where the debate was hot and heavy, ‘Can a free person decide to become someone’s slave?’

Of course in Florida that had been decided long before and in all the other states the quesion of slavery had been decided because many free persons at one time were now indentured slaves.  Most had never committed a crime or were even children of criminals.

Our first interview was at Boston University and Behham who was born a slave was not questioned as much as the two indentured women.

Betty tired to answer all the student questions.  When asked by a girl in the audience, “Does Albert still make you have sex with him Betty, even in Boston?”

“Everything about slavery is forced.  Once I was his friend in college.  Last night I was screwed and then chained and padlocked to the box springs in his bedroom.  I’m whipped when I don’t open my legs to him.  With slaves all sex is rape.  He will eat supper with Beham tonight while Sherill and I sit on our knees under the table waiting for a few scraps.  Slaves are human dogs, waiting for the master to pat or slap them.”

When Sherill was asked by a boy, “Do you agree with Betty that sex with your master is rape?”  She said, “My master Albert is god Jesus Christ, he owns my mouth and pussy.  He can do no wrong.”

The newspapers were full of stories about my book and everything that Betty and Sherill said made headlines.  Even papers that never used the word, ‘Pussy’, used it when Sherill said it.  Fixed up for TV Sherill was like a movie star.  Betty came off glamorous and almost nothing that Betham or I said was reported.  The story was about indentured slaves.  I just wrote the book that pointed out the injustice to free women.  Betham was a ‘real’ slave, few people were radical enough to condemn the whole institution.

At the first step in Boston there was a flood of legal papers.  Betty and Sherilll were seized by the police because of a group called THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN (R.O.W.) 

I had to go to court the next morning before a Boston Judge where both women agreed they had signed the indentures. R.O.W. had said their husbands actually signed for them.  The arrest was a days news and the released pictures another days headlines.

Jack Frost my agent joined my traveling group in Boston.  He said, “This is the biggest book since Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Bible in sales.  He brought 3 female writers with him who would help me and Betham with my 2nd book on slavery.  They had gone through my tapes from the Anders farm and written ten more chapters.

The way it happened was that after my speech and interview at Boston University, I had to wait on my cars, and I stood near the curb as lots of students and others shook books at me hoping i would sign.  I didn’t because doing even one would cause bad feelings with the others.   I could sign books all night on the curb.

I noticed this really sexy looking black-haired girl pushing thru the crowd toward me saying, “Let me by I have an important message for Albert Patterson.” 

She wouldn’t let anyone else take the letter but me.  I took the envelope and stuck it in my court pocket and said, “Thank you”  and thought, ‘What a beautiful messenger.’  Betham then said exactly what I thought.  Then as we got in the car she said, “I wonder who would know you were coming out the back door and sent you a letter?”  In the car I was still wondering about the letter, but I didn’t want to open it in the car.

Supper was in one of the hotel rooms when we got back from the speech.  As Betham and I ate and talked about the presentation I heard Betty sob from under the table.  “What’s wrong ” I asked.

“Will I be punished for what I said tonight master?”

“No you were the star of the show Betty.  And you did well also Sherill.  This is just our first speech and interview.  both of you, ‘under the table girls’ keep up the good work.”  I put my plate down in Betty’s hands.  I had only eaten half my steak.  When Beth put her plate down for Sherell she said, “Now master can we read the thick letter?”

I opened up the folded up pile of papers and read it as Beth also read.

“Dear Albert Patterson,

I am a graduating senior, have all my credits, from Boston University.  I am 24 years old and my major in school has been literature.  My specialization is research.  Many lit majors pick an author like William Faulkner or Harry Crews and write about their lives.  I grew up in Brazil.  My father owned a state down there.  I began reading your crime stories as fast as you wrote them.  I have been  to Florida asking about you.  I heard you went to Indian Rocks Beach and I stayed a month and saw you once. 

I have written a book about you and have included the first chapter.

You saw me on Indian Rocks Beach and even threw back a beach ball I threw at you.

I cried for a month when your wife died.  It was like I knew her.

I didn’t want you to know, but I had a detective agency from Daytona Beach follow you around for several years.  They had little to report because you stayed on one of your two farms.  I kept writing your literary agent and sending money and I got reports about your research into slavery.

Really Albert it’s like you stepped into my subject.  I grew up spending half a year in Brazil and half in Boston.

Brazil is the ultimate source of data about slavery.  The state I own has 8 million people and they are all slaves.

I know Albert that you don’t see many fan letters and I am you chief fan.  They tell us in school to figure out a vital job so that an employer will want you.  I know that you wrote Slavery in Florida using one assistant Bethune.  I would be very proud to be an assistant to Beth on your next book.

As a female I am very attracted to you Albert.  If you’ve looked at the rest of the papers I gave you will see where I’ve signed and had notarized an indenture of my body over to your ownership.  With me you get my bank accounts.  See just one such record of 123 million credits at the local bank in Boston.

You can find me waiting for you master at my apartment complex at 118 West Liberty Street, Apartment One.  It is one of the 35 buildings that I own, but now you own, just here in Boston.

I know you’ve only seen me slightly and that this is a wild and crazy idea on my part, but my greatest wish is to have babies for you, your babies.

Love Forever,

Lydia Brown Hodge

There were several documents proving who she was, and two glossy photos of her.  One of her sitting in a chair dressed like an average college student — plaid dress and conservative yellow blouse and stylish vest.  She was pictured with her knees close together.  She looked like she was waiting for a job interview.

The other picture was her standing, facing front, naked.  She was a stunning girl.  One could tell by the arrangement of the papers how serious she was about becoming my slave.

Beth said, “Why are we not on our way already master to get my assistant?”

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Please leave comments here, or write me at: rcates2@cox.net  My fax number is 1-352-629-1573

Other stories written by the same author can be found in links after the following stories:

http://unsightlyteeth.wordpress.com

and

http://adolphus.wordpress.com