Snippet from Black and WHite! *g*
Black and White
I knew that we shouldn’t be together. I am black and he is white, but then I forgot to care what others thought.
He was mine and I was his and that’s all that really mattered.
I remember the day I first met him, bright blue eyes staring over the corner of my sketchpad, long blond hair resting in curls and waves upon his shudders.
“You look lost, little girl,” he said, jokingly. I looked at him, amazed.
I had never seen such big man, such a tall man, such a blonde man. His hair was the color of spun gold with platinum streaks that joyously picked up rays of the sun. His eyes, those ever changing eyes, flashed down at me, first blue, then green, then gray, as if they were changing with his emotions. His face, with its perfectly straight nose and full bottom lip, was foreign to me, but it seemed familiar. He was like nothing and no one I had ever met before, but I instantly knew that I had found what I had been searching for.
“Not lost,” I managed to say, an uncommon blush spreading up my cheeks as I fought an incredible urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. “Not lost at all.”
He smiled at me, the biggest brightest smile I had ever seen.
“Coffee?” he asked, nodding towards a small café across from the statuary that I was drawing. He offered me his hand.
It was a large hand, pale and with long thick fingers and short buffed nails. He looked down at me, uncertain as to if I would accept or tell this white boy to beat it. That vulnerability in his eyes touched something deep within me. I reached for his hand.
It enveloped mine, this large pale hand. It totally surrounded mine with a dry soft heat. It sent shivers down arm and across my spine. Was someone walking on my grave, or was it that I had finally met my destiny?
We drank coffee, his with sugar and milk, and mine black and strong.
He laughed at that. His voice rumbled like thunder and shot waves of awareness through my body. I was enthralled, I was entranced, and I was falling in love.
He paid for the coffee over my objections, and asked if I would walk with him.
“Where?” I asked.
“To the stars, beyond the moon, to the park over there,” he laughed, pointing to a small-secluded square of grass and trees in the midst of the city.
“My Lady,” he bowed, then placed his hand on my lower back.
His hand covered me completely. I was stunned that he was so large! When we where sitting and talking, he seemed so average to me, but when he placed his hand on my back, I knew that I was with a giant – a gentle giant.
As we walked, his aroma wafted over to me. Not his cologne, mind you. He was wearing that, but it was the musky sent beneath his cologne that grabbed my attention. He smelled new and light, like clean ocean air with a hint of smoke and animal lust. I inhaled deeply, praying that he wouldn’t turn and catch me sniffing him like a dog about to mark its territory.
At the park, he hefted his pack from his shoulder. A tinkling sound drew my attention before he sat. I looked and had another shock delivered. There was a pair of bright silver handcuffs attached to one strap.
“Does it bother you?” he asked, noticing where my attention suddenly was.
“Depends on if you’re a cop or not,” I answered. Dark fantasies flooding my brain. Would he allow me to cuff him? Would I allow him to bind me? But this relationship was only hours old, much too soon to be thinking those thoughts.
“I am not a cop,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But I know what I like. If that makes you uncomfortable…” He let the sentence hang.
After a moment, the light dimmed a bit in his eyes as I said nothing. Just as I realized that his large muscles were bunching in preparation for leaving, I placed my hand on his arm.
“Stay,” I said. Then I looked down.
His arm looked so pale against my golden skin. I had never really noticed a difference before, but with me touching him, the obvious differences between us were apparent.
He looked down too, and smiled at the contrast.
“We complement each other, I think,” he said as he looked into my eyes. Brown met an ever-changing rainbow of cool colors. His eyes were flipping again from blue to gray to green. I was lost in their depths.
We made arrangements to meet later that night for a real date. I was nervous and he was too, but we managed to tell each other about ourselves. I was a painter and a writer; he was an engineer. We were both young and starting out, had experienced several relationships that went nowhere, and we both were surprised by this instant attraction.
“I have never dated a black woman,” he admitted as we danced on a postage sized dance floor after dinner. “You are just so damn beautiful, I had to come over and see if you were real.”
I laughed and lay my head against his broad shoulder. He still smelled of the sea and of man.
“Well, I have never dated someone of the Caucasian persuasion,” I laughed. “And I still don’t think that you’re real.”
“I’m real enough,” he said, his eyes turning a deep green as he pulled my hips into his.
I felt his bulge – not a knot, or a lump, but a bulge! All the rumors I had heard over the years about white guys were proven false as he pulled me tighter against him.
“Really real,” I all but purred as the heat of him seared me through my dress.
“But it’s too soon for that,” he said as he reluctantly let me go. He escorted me back to the table, paid the bill, then walked me home.
“I had fun tonight,” he said as we reached my door. “I want to do this again.
“Me too,” I replied, looking up into his exciting face and wondering if he was going to kiss me.
“May I?” he asked, as if he were reading my mind.
I nodded and his lips lowered to mine. His soft full lips parted my own in a gentle caress as his tongue slipped out to lap at the corners of my mouth.
I moaned at the gesture and his arms surrounded me, pulling me closer into his embrace. Then his lips parted mine, and his taste exploded in my brain.
He was sweet – minty and sweet – like an exotic fruit. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of his facile tongue as it danced in my mouth, learning my taste, leaving an undeniable mark. Before I could stop them, my hands were buried in his hair, tugging at the soft long strands that twined around my fingers, taking on a life of its own.
Never had I felt something so soft and fine! It wasn’t like satin; it was like raw silk, and the feel of it tickled my fingers, awakening nerve endings that I never knew existed.
He liked it too. He emitted a deep groan that vibrated throughout my body, making me tingle and itch.
I wanted to pull him into my apartment and damn the consequences, but he pulled back.
“I think something has started here,” he said as he dropped tiny kisses along my slightly swollen lips. “Something has started and I don’t want to end it.”
Before I could answer, he urged me into my apartment and stood there until I locked the door. As I watched through the peephole, he turned, adjusted the fit of his pants, and stiffly walked away.
That was the beginning.