Her white ******’s house in the white suburb was about an hour and a half drive away. Her ****** was expecting her and her boyfriend at about 3:00 that afternoon. It was Christmas Eve. Their college co-ed ******** and her boy friend would spend the night, spend Christmas and attend a special Christmas church service that day. They hadn’t seen her in months and her arrival was eagerly anticipated.
They’d specially prepared the guest room for her boy friend, having the carpet and drapes professionally cleaned, having it re-painted and brand new linens. It was partly for her boy friend but mostly because the guest room was overdue for re-modeling. It wasn’t exactly a re-model, but it was close. The small guest bathroom had been professionally cleaned and new plumbing fixtures installed.
Extended ****** members would be over later tomorrow for Christmas dinner. Her grandparents and aunts, uncles and several cousins would all be present to see her and meet her new boy friend.
For the moment, early afternoon Christmas Eve, her parents’ home was a buzz of frantic activity. From past experience she knew what Christmas Eve and Christmas was like. Her ****** were serious Christians who took seriously the celebration of the birth of their Lord and Savior. She knew exactly what the atmosphere was like in her home.
Sitting silently in the passenger seat while Bob barreled down the freeway to her parents’ house, she visualized their entrance into the home. She and Bob would ring the doorbell, wait patiently for the door to open and her mother and father to greet them. Or maybe it would be one of her brothers or sisters. No telling who would open the door. The point is that someone would open it and it would be a white member of her ******. And then....they’d see her and her boyfriend. Her black boyfriend. The look on their faces! She smiled. It would be priceless. It would be jarring for them, but it’s time they moved into the real world and got out of their white bubble.
“Penny for your thoughts baby?” Bob jolted her from her inner thoughts.
“Oh, nothing really.”
“Nothing? Since when are you ever thinking of nothing?”
She laughed.
“You caught me there. Of course I was thinking of something.”
“Yeah? Well....what?”
“Just thinking of how much I am enjoying the ride up to my parents, sitting here and enjoying it all while you drive. I never realized how stressful driving was until I started driving around with you and I can just sit here and enjoy the ride.”
“Is that all?”
“No. Not all.”
“I’m really glad we’re together. I know, I know you weren’t feeling well yesterday. Everybody kind of noticed when you didn’t come to class. They asked me about you. I just said you were preparing for Christmas.”
“Did Andre say anything?”
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Just wondering. Everybody seems so....”
“So what?”
“I don’t know. So afraid of him. So intimidated by him.”
“He was there but didn’t say anything, not about you. He just sat there looking....looking superior and complacent. Everybody thought it was weird that you weren’t there.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. Like what was Andre doing in class if you were absent?”
“Someone said that?”
“Yeah. Someone did. Actually.”
“What was the response?”
“A couple of people looked at me and I just let it go.”
“Good. No reason to dignify that kind of thing.”
“Are you really happy to be with me?”
“God yes,” she affirmed him. “You look wonderful in that suit. You should dress like that more often. You look great in a suit.”
“You think you’re parents will be OK with me?”
“When they see you they’ll be speechless.”
“How much further is it?”
“About another 45 minutes,” she answered. “A little longer if you slow down.”
“Slow down? Why would I slow down?”
“Well for one thing you’re 10 miles over the legal limit. For one thing.”
“Is that all?”
“What else could there be?”
“Oh. I don’t know.” He shrugged and glanced sideways.
Of course he knew. Driving more slowly meant a longer trip and more time for some road head. He didn’t come right out and say it of course. But...she knew him well enough to know what was on his mind. It was always on his mind. Like all boys she guessed. Black boys weren’t so different from white boys in that regard. Just more deserving, more entitled.
It was broad day light and traffic was moderate to light. It wasn’t so safe as being under the cover of darkness like they were at night, but so what? So what if people saw?
Glancing sideways she could see the bulge of his already hard cock. He was ready and willing. It all depended on whether she was able.
As if reading her thoughts, he glanced sideways and smiled. Their eyes met. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking.
His body would stiffen and he’d gasp as she reached over and stroked the bulge in his trousers with her finger tips. He shift in his seat. Kind of straightening up and slightly spreading his legs. They both knew what she’d do next. She reach over, unzip his pants, pulled down the elastic top of his briefs freeing his huge fully erect penis which sprang free for her viewing pleasure.
She swallowed and took a deep breath. The thought of it. Just the thought of it. God it was beautiful. His cock was absolutely, indescribably beautiful. Then she’d look furtively around to make sure no cars were next to them, unbuckle her seat belt, lean over and slowly slip her lips over the head of his cock and down the shaft. And then slowly back up. And then back down. And then back up. And again and again and again.
Moaning and breathing heavily, he’d tightly grip the wheel with his left hand and placed his right hand gently behind her head. He’d usually lighten his pressure on the gas and they’d slowed to a few miles under the legal limit. No point in attracting the attention of a traffic cop and having it all interrupted.
“What? You really want to know?”
“Yes. I really want to know baby.”
She mused. A penney her thoughts. Her thoughts. What did they really mean any way. Of what earthly importance were her thoughts in the face of forces of nature that would not be denied...that could not be denied. Forces of nature that operated between them, almost like the inevitability and the immuntability of the law of gravity, even if not so immediate and so direct. Gradual and slow, but inevitable and immutable even so.
Her thoughts. Her thoughts.
She looked outside at the blur of the white lines racing by and then back at the digital clock on the car’s dashboard. It was digital and didn’t have a second hand and she couldn’t hear it ticking, but as she washed the glow of the numbers change and mark the passage of time, she thought of seconds ticking away.
Together on their “assignment” they’d ridden around metropolitan LA on surface streets in traffic, but this was the first really long drive they’d taken. It was also their first time together, whether alone or with others, since the party at which she’d encountered Andre.
Andre.
Everyone saw them together. Everyone. Ane everyone saw that she skipped class the next day. Did Andre skip? Was he there? What conclusions would they draw from that?
Andre. Andre. Andre.
Did Bob know what she was thinking? Was that why he asked her. Was he testing her? Would she tell the truth and admit it. She was thinking of Andre. Why this? Why now? Why? Why? Why?
The conflicts between her white world and the presentation of her black lover to her white ******....wasn’t that enough? She was confident about it all, self assured to be sure. But still the impact of the presence...the open presence...of her black lover would forever change her relationship with her ****** and her entire life. Wasn’t that enough of a challenge without having Andre on her mind?
Of course she’d introduce him as her “boyfriend.” She could hardly introduce him as her lover. It was one of those obvious truths that everyone knew but steadfastly ignored for the sake of appearances.
Appearances? Were appearances really an issue? He was there. He was black. He was obviously her lover. It was plain for everyone to see. Appearances were open and obvious and denying them or even ignoring them...why was any of that even necessary? Why did she have to lie about her relationship with this black mane when everyone knew the truth anyway. Even if they didn’t actually “know” it in the formal legal sense of direct personal knowledge, of course they knew in the sense that certain truths about the human condition are universally”known” and understood by common assent and understanding.
He was her black boyfriend and he was fucking her. Well, he hadn’t fucked her yet, but she’d sucked his cock. Fucking was understood. It just hadn’t been done yet. The question of why not....why hadn’t he fucked her yet? There was no clear answer. They just hadn’t. She was his first white girl friend and he was her first black man. It was new for both of them. There was a natural pace at which old barriers gave way to new desires, new forces to batter down the old ones and make way for the new balance of power. The old balance of power kept black men and white women apart and the new balance of power brought them together. Even though they were living, biological beings, it was as though certain impersonal forces of physical science still operated on them.
Between them was an understanding, unspoken and as yet not formally acknowledged, that after meeting her ****** they’d sleep together. She wanted to feel him deep inside her. She’d wanted it, ached for it, become obsessed by it, by the reality of having such a huge cock go deep inside her, with nothing between them, as close as a man and a woman can possibly be. She knew it, that it was coming and that she would not deny either of them, either her or him.
The issue of birth control had never been raised between them. How could she be so reckless? She wasn’t “taking” anything and had no physical means of preventing her becoming pregnant by him. She’d never have thought about it. With white guys the issue of birth control was always there. It was like a third person in the room with them. Watching. Waiting. Inserting itself. If not ruining things, at least casting a shadow over it all. It occurred to her. The purpose of sex was to get pregnant, not to avoid it. She’d spent her whole life fighting nature. Now with him, with a black man, the issue had never been raised and everything seemed so natural, so smooth. God! It was liberating. It was like some energy had been released, some heavy burden had been lifted. Like moving from the white world to the black world she’d taken off chains and known freedom....real freedom....for the first time in her life.
Could it really be that easy? Could it really be so simple? Or was she over intellectualizing? Over dramatizing? Ignoring the possibility that the delicious satisfaction of rebelling against her white parents and indeed, against the whole white world, had distorted her thinking? Could she have been so misguided before with her white lovers or was she misguided now with her black lover? Did race really mean so much and make so much difference?
She glanced sideways at him and he returned the glance, looking away from the road. They both smiled. No words ...no spoken words....spoiled the moment.
The moment. She looked again at the clock on the dashboard. Only a few minutes had passed. Between now and their arrival she’d have a chance to be alone with her thoughts, even with him sitting next to her. Thankfully he hadn’t turned on the radio and only the sounds of the road outside could be heard. Both seemed to appreciate the silence and the change each to be alone with their thoughts even as they were seated alone together in the fast moving car.
She looked back at the road in front of her, contemplated the oncoming white stripes and how they suddenly blurred past.
“Bob.”
She said his name silently in her mind. How much things had changed between them. God how great he looked in his new suit, his new shirt and tie and his new shoes. His shoes. They were real leather shoes. Dress shoes made for serious men wearing suits and ties and exercising serious power. Real leather, not that cheap ersatz imitation leather crap used in cheap crappy shoes imported from China. God she hated crappy imitation leather shoes. Whatever else she thought of her white father, he never stooped to wearing cheap imitation crap. He always wore real, authentic shoes and clothing.
Was her black boyfriend really so much like her white father? Maybe in superficial ways they had common ground, but here father’s children were white and she knew, even now, that her children were destined to be black.
Bob. Bob. Bob.
Why did he dress up like that? Because she’d told him to. But did he really have to take her seriously? No one in her white ****** would be wearing a suit and tie for Christmas Eve or Christmas dinner. O course he’d dressed up out of respect for her and her white ******. Maybe he’d dressed up to express his own sense of self, his own sense of wanting to be seen as a serious man, with serious professional aspirations. Why not? Why shouldn’t he want to do that?
The irony was inescapable. She was bringing him, a black boyfriend home to her white ****** and white church and white bred community to show her contempt for them and for everything white. Yet he, seemingly, wanted to show his respect for the white people and the white world that she regarded with so much contempt.
Did he really think more highly of her white ****** than she did? She wanted to embarrass and humiliate them and here he wanted to show respect for their values and sensibilities.
In his business suit he looked crisp and professional. Would any of the white people with whom and in whose home they’d be celebrating Christmas Eve, would any of them be wearing suites and ties? Would any of the stand so tall, so straight, show such confidence and be so unintimidated by being the only man in the room wearing a suit?
He had to know he’d be the only “dressed up” man there. He had to know he’d stand out from all the rest, if not only for his race, for his conspicuous clothing. Did he really think he had to wear a suit to “fit in” with upper class white people? Did he really think that would bridge the gaps and eliminate the differences between him and them?
Or did he “dress up” to make a statement of his own, apart from and more important than just “fitting in.”
Of course a black man escorting a white girl would not fit in with her white racist ******. “Her white racist ******.” She said the dreaded words silently in her mind but it was the truth. Her white ****** was racist.
Time for brutal honesty, at least with herself. At least in the privacy, in the silence and safety of her own mind, it was time to be brutally honest. He’d face a test being there but so would she. So would she. It would take guts and resolve to stand up to her racist white ****** and ride out whatever they would do because she’d brought home a black boyfriend. He wasn’t a secret black boyfriend, an “under cover lover.” He was open and she was open and there was no mistaking this black guy was fucking their white ******** and no mistaking that she, of all people, wanted them to know it.
Again she looked at the time on the digital clock blinking noiselessly away on the car’s dash board. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bob glance away from the road and at the clock too. The minutes were passing by and his mind was undoubtably racing away. He, a black man, would more than she, would certainly realize the impact his presence would have. He’d grown up in the black world, with the black narrative and was in black studies at school.
She thought of Andre, what he said, what he said about all the people in the class knowing that Brown had helped fix up things between her and Bob. They all knew. Bob knew that. He knew everyone would want to know...what happened? Did he really fuck their white ******** under the roof of their house late at night while everyone else in the house was sleeping?
That’s what they’d most want to know. Would he tell them? Would he share his experience with her with them? At first it sickened her to think he’d do it, but here she was going forward with him anyway. If she was flaunting him, her black lover, in front of her white ******, why shouldn’t Bob flaunt her, his white girl friend, before the black people that made up his world. Each of them flaunted themselves and each other in their own way and who was she to judge? Who was she to defy the natural force that drew her to him against all odds, against a lifetime of being conditioned to look down, or at least it not to look down on black men, to look away from them. She’d defied that taboo. Who was she to judge others who defied taboos too?
Her mind racing, she took a deep breath and swallowed. She sensed he noticed her tension and heavier breathing, but neither spoke. The white lines kept blurring by and the digital clock kept glowing and marking the time as it passed.
Having calmed down, at least a little, she wondered.
Why did he have to dress that way and accentuate the differences between him and her ******? Why wear a suit that would only serve to widen rather than to narrow the gulf between him and her white ******?
Surely he had to understand that over dressing would only exacerbate the natural differences between him and them. Surely he had to know. His dressing that way...it was “whiteness.” Wasn’t it? Was he giving in to “whiteness” by dressing that way?
The answer was, of course, yes he understood. Of course he understood. Of course he knew dressing up, dressing above her white ****** and relatives would make them feel uncomfortable and self conscious. Of course it would. What a statement for a black man meeting a white ****** on their own ground....what a bold statement to make. Did he really have the guts to do that? Well, yes. His actions spoke for themselves. He obviously did have the guts. Why didn’t she? Why was she the one who was so nervous?
Calming down inside, something hit her. Of course. Of course he dressed that way. Why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he dress in clothing that screamed professionalism, confidence and power? Why not assume his natural place in the new racial hierarchy as a proud black man who was perfectly comfortable with the position of power and leadership what was his by natural right?
They’d know he was fucking their white ********. They’d know the baby, if there was one, would be of his race and not theirs. They knew their own white ******** had crossed the invisible line that divided the fantasy of white supremacy and the reality of black racial supremacy.
Their so called supremacy was based on a fraud, a cruel dishonest trick played on nature and on all non-white peoples. His supremacy was based on nature, based on nature fighting back and slowly, over time, re-storing the balance of power between the races as nature intended.
Would whites survive the future changes? Would whites even continue to exists?
Those were the questions that haunted them and existed only in the shadows of their deepest fears. Unseen, unacknowledged, unmasked, but there. Like a headache. A headache couldn’t be seen and it didn’t appear on an X-ray or an MRI, but it’s reality could not be denied. A headache was invisible, yet what power it could have.
Again she paused, took a breath and tried to gather her thoughts. How many trains of thought could she have at one time? There had to be a limit. She rolled her eyes sideways trying to sneak a look at the digital clock with out him catching her doing so. Sometimes he made her feel naked, totally nude. Like now. She rolled her eyes back and noted the blur of the white lines flashing by.
It was like the white man’s fear of the black man’s ultimate domination...the ultimate, inevitable domination of white women and all things white by powerful black men. Bob’s wearing a business suit, his decision to appear as a professional and a leader was not a role he decided to play. It was not a role at all. It was his natural will, his natural power expressing itself . It was for him, a strong naturally powerful black man, a natural thing to do.
Although he hadn’t yet consciously thought about it at the deepest level, eventually he would. Eventually he would himself understand more consciously his own nature, his own strength and power. He would understand the statement he was making by appearing at a white ****** event as the sharpest, most professional man there.
Maybe he dressed like a leader because he was a leader. There was more. More than a better man or a leader, he was a ruler. If not yet, if he did not yet literally rule over them, then in the future he and other black men would, and they’d better get used to it.
More than a leader or even a ruler, he dressed as a conqueror, a conqueror of white people. Perhaps a conqueror first and foremost. Subject peoples could only be ruled after they were conquered. In that regard, white people were no different.
His outward friendly manner said “I like you. I respect you. Thank you for having me here in your house.”
His inward being, his inward nature, however, said, “I have conquered you, I willl rule you. I will fuck your white ******** and make her pregnant with my black baby and you will know that your bloodline and your race’s existence is at an end.
His dream, his manner, his natural superiority would cause them to tremble with fear and finally to acknowledge, even if silently in their white minds, the reality of the looming threat of racial oblivion that haunted them their whole lives.
She glanced sideways at him. Dressed as he was, he presented an appearance she’d never seen before. More than an appearance, it was an aura. Everything he wore was brand new. His suit, his trousers, his shirt and tie, his shoes. All brand new. All crisp. All perfect.
So many men, most men actually, look so artificial and uncomfortable in formal clothes, even in basic suits and ties. She swallowed and took a breath. Yet Bob, the black man she only just met and knew, unlike all the other men she’d ever known, looked perfectly natural. He showed no awkwardness or self consciousness, just self confidence and serenity.
When they first met he’d seemed a little nervous and insecure. Obviously she was his first white girl and he was desperate not to mess up by seeming too needy or coming on too strong. The balance of power was then on her side and they both knew it.
Now....
She took another breath and sighed. She felt him glance sideways at her. It was a fleeting glance, a momentary look away from the road ahead, but she felt it. They both did.
In her peripheral vision she’d seen his face. It was a clean honest face, confident and untroubled self consciousness or self doubt. He’d heard her sigh and glanced sideways. She was obviously alone with some deep thoughts and he resisted the temptation to ask what was on her mind. Let nature take its course. He understood. She’d explain herself when she was readly, if she would ever be ready.
Explain herself? Explain herself?
They’d gone far beyond that, far beyond any verbal explanation. She’d been with him. Sat next to him in class. Driven with him around town. Attended a black church. Together they shared the weight of the eyes of jealous black girls focused on both of them, with envy and even hatred.
More than that, she’d sucked his powerful dick, more than once. She’d known its worth, its hardness, its softness, its excitement, and the gush of his sperm. There was no denying that bond between them, no denying the power of his natural attraction and no...no ever going back.
Her ******, her father and mother, everyone...they would know it too. They’d know it all. They’d know she was forever lost to them and ultimately they’d learn that they were fore ever doomed to conquest and rule and the loss of everything they’d known.
She looked at the clock again and then up at the freeway and the white lines shooting by. The moment of truth was at hand.
They’d specially prepared the guest room for her boy friend, having the carpet and drapes professionally cleaned, having it re-painted and brand new linens. It was partly for her boy friend but mostly because the guest room was overdue for re-modeling. It wasn’t exactly a re-model, but it was close. The small guest bathroom had been professionally cleaned and new plumbing fixtures installed.
Extended ****** members would be over later tomorrow for Christmas dinner. Her grandparents and aunts, uncles and several cousins would all be present to see her and meet her new boy friend.
For the moment, early afternoon Christmas Eve, her parents’ home was a buzz of frantic activity. From past experience she knew what Christmas Eve and Christmas was like. Her ****** were serious Christians who took seriously the celebration of the birth of their Lord and Savior. She knew exactly what the atmosphere was like in her home.
Sitting silently in the passenger seat while Bob barreled down the freeway to her parents’ house, she visualized their entrance into the home. She and Bob would ring the doorbell, wait patiently for the door to open and her mother and father to greet them. Or maybe it would be one of her brothers or sisters. No telling who would open the door. The point is that someone would open it and it would be a white member of her ******. And then....they’d see her and her boyfriend. Her black boyfriend. The look on their faces! She smiled. It would be priceless. It would be jarring for them, but it’s time they moved into the real world and got out of their white bubble.
“Penny for your thoughts baby?” Bob jolted her from her inner thoughts.
“Oh, nothing really.”
“Nothing? Since when are you ever thinking of nothing?”
She laughed.
“You caught me there. Of course I was thinking of something.”
“Yeah? Well....what?”
“Just thinking of how much I am enjoying the ride up to my parents, sitting here and enjoying it all while you drive. I never realized how stressful driving was until I started driving around with you and I can just sit here and enjoy the ride.”
“Is that all?”
“No. Not all.”
“I’m really glad we’re together. I know, I know you weren’t feeling well yesterday. Everybody kind of noticed when you didn’t come to class. They asked me about you. I just said you were preparing for Christmas.”
“Did Andre say anything?”
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Just wondering. Everybody seems so....”
“So what?”
“I don’t know. So afraid of him. So intimidated by him.”
“He was there but didn’t say anything, not about you. He just sat there looking....looking superior and complacent. Everybody thought it was weird that you weren’t there.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. Like what was Andre doing in class if you were absent?”
“Someone said that?”
“Yeah. Someone did. Actually.”
“What was the response?”
“A couple of people looked at me and I just let it go.”
“Good. No reason to dignify that kind of thing.”
“Are you really happy to be with me?”
“God yes,” she affirmed him. “You look wonderful in that suit. You should dress like that more often. You look great in a suit.”
“You think you’re parents will be OK with me?”
“When they see you they’ll be speechless.”
“How much further is it?”
“About another 45 minutes,” she answered. “A little longer if you slow down.”
“Slow down? Why would I slow down?”
“Well for one thing you’re 10 miles over the legal limit. For one thing.”
“Is that all?”
“What else could there be?”
“Oh. I don’t know.” He shrugged and glanced sideways.
Of course he knew. Driving more slowly meant a longer trip and more time for some road head. He didn’t come right out and say it of course. But...she knew him well enough to know what was on his mind. It was always on his mind. Like all boys she guessed. Black boys weren’t so different from white boys in that regard. Just more deserving, more entitled.
It was broad day light and traffic was moderate to light. It wasn’t so safe as being under the cover of darkness like they were at night, but so what? So what if people saw?
Glancing sideways she could see the bulge of his already hard cock. He was ready and willing. It all depended on whether she was able.
As if reading her thoughts, he glanced sideways and smiled. Their eyes met. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking.
His body would stiffen and he’d gasp as she reached over and stroked the bulge in his trousers with her finger tips. He shift in his seat. Kind of straightening up and slightly spreading his legs. They both knew what she’d do next. She reach over, unzip his pants, pulled down the elastic top of his briefs freeing his huge fully erect penis which sprang free for her viewing pleasure.
She swallowed and took a deep breath. The thought of it. Just the thought of it. God it was beautiful. His cock was absolutely, indescribably beautiful. Then she’d look furtively around to make sure no cars were next to them, unbuckle her seat belt, lean over and slowly slip her lips over the head of his cock and down the shaft. And then slowly back up. And then back down. And then back up. And again and again and again.
Moaning and breathing heavily, he’d tightly grip the wheel with his left hand and placed his right hand gently behind her head. He’d usually lighten his pressure on the gas and they’d slowed to a few miles under the legal limit. No point in attracting the attention of a traffic cop and having it all interrupted.
“What? You really want to know?”
“Yes. I really want to know baby.”
She mused. A penney her thoughts. Her thoughts. What did they really mean any way. Of what earthly importance were her thoughts in the face of forces of nature that would not be denied...that could not be denied. Forces of nature that operated between them, almost like the inevitability and the immuntability of the law of gravity, even if not so immediate and so direct. Gradual and slow, but inevitable and immutable even so.
Her thoughts. Her thoughts.
She looked outside at the blur of the white lines racing by and then back at the digital clock on the car’s dashboard. It was digital and didn’t have a second hand and she couldn’t hear it ticking, but as she washed the glow of the numbers change and mark the passage of time, she thought of seconds ticking away.
Together on their “assignment” they’d ridden around metropolitan LA on surface streets in traffic, but this was the first really long drive they’d taken. It was also their first time together, whether alone or with others, since the party at which she’d encountered Andre.
Andre.
Everyone saw them together. Everyone. Ane everyone saw that she skipped class the next day. Did Andre skip? Was he there? What conclusions would they draw from that?
Andre. Andre. Andre.
Did Bob know what she was thinking? Was that why he asked her. Was he testing her? Would she tell the truth and admit it. She was thinking of Andre. Why this? Why now? Why? Why? Why?
The conflicts between her white world and the presentation of her black lover to her white ******....wasn’t that enough? She was confident about it all, self assured to be sure. But still the impact of the presence...the open presence...of her black lover would forever change her relationship with her ****** and her entire life. Wasn’t that enough of a challenge without having Andre on her mind?
Of course she’d introduce him as her “boyfriend.” She could hardly introduce him as her lover. It was one of those obvious truths that everyone knew but steadfastly ignored for the sake of appearances.
Appearances? Were appearances really an issue? He was there. He was black. He was obviously her lover. It was plain for everyone to see. Appearances were open and obvious and denying them or even ignoring them...why was any of that even necessary? Why did she have to lie about her relationship with this black mane when everyone knew the truth anyway. Even if they didn’t actually “know” it in the formal legal sense of direct personal knowledge, of course they knew in the sense that certain truths about the human condition are universally”known” and understood by common assent and understanding.
He was her black boyfriend and he was fucking her. Well, he hadn’t fucked her yet, but she’d sucked his cock. Fucking was understood. It just hadn’t been done yet. The question of why not....why hadn’t he fucked her yet? There was no clear answer. They just hadn’t. She was his first white girl friend and he was her first black man. It was new for both of them. There was a natural pace at which old barriers gave way to new desires, new forces to batter down the old ones and make way for the new balance of power. The old balance of power kept black men and white women apart and the new balance of power brought them together. Even though they were living, biological beings, it was as though certain impersonal forces of physical science still operated on them.
Between them was an understanding, unspoken and as yet not formally acknowledged, that after meeting her ****** they’d sleep together. She wanted to feel him deep inside her. She’d wanted it, ached for it, become obsessed by it, by the reality of having such a huge cock go deep inside her, with nothing between them, as close as a man and a woman can possibly be. She knew it, that it was coming and that she would not deny either of them, either her or him.
The issue of birth control had never been raised between them. How could she be so reckless? She wasn’t “taking” anything and had no physical means of preventing her becoming pregnant by him. She’d never have thought about it. With white guys the issue of birth control was always there. It was like a third person in the room with them. Watching. Waiting. Inserting itself. If not ruining things, at least casting a shadow over it all. It occurred to her. The purpose of sex was to get pregnant, not to avoid it. She’d spent her whole life fighting nature. Now with him, with a black man, the issue had never been raised and everything seemed so natural, so smooth. God! It was liberating. It was like some energy had been released, some heavy burden had been lifted. Like moving from the white world to the black world she’d taken off chains and known freedom....real freedom....for the first time in her life.
Could it really be that easy? Could it really be so simple? Or was she over intellectualizing? Over dramatizing? Ignoring the possibility that the delicious satisfaction of rebelling against her white parents and indeed, against the whole white world, had distorted her thinking? Could she have been so misguided before with her white lovers or was she misguided now with her black lover? Did race really mean so much and make so much difference?
She glanced sideways at him and he returned the glance, looking away from the road. They both smiled. No words ...no spoken words....spoiled the moment.
The moment. She looked again at the clock on the dashboard. Only a few minutes had passed. Between now and their arrival she’d have a chance to be alone with her thoughts, even with him sitting next to her. Thankfully he hadn’t turned on the radio and only the sounds of the road outside could be heard. Both seemed to appreciate the silence and the change each to be alone with their thoughts even as they were seated alone together in the fast moving car.
She looked back at the road in front of her, contemplated the oncoming white stripes and how they suddenly blurred past.
“Bob.”
She said his name silently in her mind. How much things had changed between them. God how great he looked in his new suit, his new shirt and tie and his new shoes. His shoes. They were real leather shoes. Dress shoes made for serious men wearing suits and ties and exercising serious power. Real leather, not that cheap ersatz imitation leather crap used in cheap crappy shoes imported from China. God she hated crappy imitation leather shoes. Whatever else she thought of her white father, he never stooped to wearing cheap imitation crap. He always wore real, authentic shoes and clothing.
Was her black boyfriend really so much like her white father? Maybe in superficial ways they had common ground, but here father’s children were white and she knew, even now, that her children were destined to be black.
Bob. Bob. Bob.
Why did he dress up like that? Because she’d told him to. But did he really have to take her seriously? No one in her white ****** would be wearing a suit and tie for Christmas Eve or Christmas dinner. O course he’d dressed up out of respect for her and her white ******. Maybe he’d dressed up to express his own sense of self, his own sense of wanting to be seen as a serious man, with serious professional aspirations. Why not? Why shouldn’t he want to do that?
The irony was inescapable. She was bringing him, a black boyfriend home to her white ****** and white church and white bred community to show her contempt for them and for everything white. Yet he, seemingly, wanted to show his respect for the white people and the white world that she regarded with so much contempt.
Did he really think more highly of her white ****** than she did? She wanted to embarrass and humiliate them and here he wanted to show respect for their values and sensibilities.
In his business suit he looked crisp and professional. Would any of the white people with whom and in whose home they’d be celebrating Christmas Eve, would any of them be wearing suites and ties? Would any of the stand so tall, so straight, show such confidence and be so unintimidated by being the only man in the room wearing a suit?
He had to know he’d be the only “dressed up” man there. He had to know he’d stand out from all the rest, if not only for his race, for his conspicuous clothing. Did he really think he had to wear a suit to “fit in” with upper class white people? Did he really think that would bridge the gaps and eliminate the differences between him and them?
Or did he “dress up” to make a statement of his own, apart from and more important than just “fitting in.”
Of course a black man escorting a white girl would not fit in with her white racist ******. “Her white racist ******.” She said the dreaded words silently in her mind but it was the truth. Her white ****** was racist.
Time for brutal honesty, at least with herself. At least in the privacy, in the silence and safety of her own mind, it was time to be brutally honest. He’d face a test being there but so would she. So would she. It would take guts and resolve to stand up to her racist white ****** and ride out whatever they would do because she’d brought home a black boyfriend. He wasn’t a secret black boyfriend, an “under cover lover.” He was open and she was open and there was no mistaking this black guy was fucking their white ******** and no mistaking that she, of all people, wanted them to know it.
Again she looked at the time on the digital clock blinking noiselessly away on the car’s dash board. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bob glance away from the road and at the clock too. The minutes were passing by and his mind was undoubtably racing away. He, a black man, would more than she, would certainly realize the impact his presence would have. He’d grown up in the black world, with the black narrative and was in black studies at school.
She thought of Andre, what he said, what he said about all the people in the class knowing that Brown had helped fix up things between her and Bob. They all knew. Bob knew that. He knew everyone would want to know...what happened? Did he really fuck their white ******** under the roof of their house late at night while everyone else in the house was sleeping?
That’s what they’d most want to know. Would he tell them? Would he share his experience with her with them? At first it sickened her to think he’d do it, but here she was going forward with him anyway. If she was flaunting him, her black lover, in front of her white ******, why shouldn’t Bob flaunt her, his white girl friend, before the black people that made up his world. Each of them flaunted themselves and each other in their own way and who was she to judge? Who was she to defy the natural force that drew her to him against all odds, against a lifetime of being conditioned to look down, or at least it not to look down on black men, to look away from them. She’d defied that taboo. Who was she to judge others who defied taboos too?
Her mind racing, she took a deep breath and swallowed. She sensed he noticed her tension and heavier breathing, but neither spoke. The white lines kept blurring by and the digital clock kept glowing and marking the time as it passed.
Having calmed down, at least a little, she wondered.
Why did he have to dress that way and accentuate the differences between him and her ******? Why wear a suit that would only serve to widen rather than to narrow the gulf between him and her white ******?
Surely he had to understand that over dressing would only exacerbate the natural differences between him and them. Surely he had to know. His dressing that way...it was “whiteness.” Wasn’t it? Was he giving in to “whiteness” by dressing that way?
The answer was, of course, yes he understood. Of course he understood. Of course he knew dressing up, dressing above her white ****** and relatives would make them feel uncomfortable and self conscious. Of course it would. What a statement for a black man meeting a white ****** on their own ground....what a bold statement to make. Did he really have the guts to do that? Well, yes. His actions spoke for themselves. He obviously did have the guts. Why didn’t she? Why was she the one who was so nervous?
Calming down inside, something hit her. Of course. Of course he dressed that way. Why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he dress in clothing that screamed professionalism, confidence and power? Why not assume his natural place in the new racial hierarchy as a proud black man who was perfectly comfortable with the position of power and leadership what was his by natural right?
They’d know he was fucking their white ********. They’d know the baby, if there was one, would be of his race and not theirs. They knew their own white ******** had crossed the invisible line that divided the fantasy of white supremacy and the reality of black racial supremacy.
Their so called supremacy was based on a fraud, a cruel dishonest trick played on nature and on all non-white peoples. His supremacy was based on nature, based on nature fighting back and slowly, over time, re-storing the balance of power between the races as nature intended.
Would whites survive the future changes? Would whites even continue to exists?
Those were the questions that haunted them and existed only in the shadows of their deepest fears. Unseen, unacknowledged, unmasked, but there. Like a headache. A headache couldn’t be seen and it didn’t appear on an X-ray or an MRI, but it’s reality could not be denied. A headache was invisible, yet what power it could have.
Again she paused, took a breath and tried to gather her thoughts. How many trains of thought could she have at one time? There had to be a limit. She rolled her eyes sideways trying to sneak a look at the digital clock with out him catching her doing so. Sometimes he made her feel naked, totally nude. Like now. She rolled her eyes back and noted the blur of the white lines flashing by.
It was like the white man’s fear of the black man’s ultimate domination...the ultimate, inevitable domination of white women and all things white by powerful black men. Bob’s wearing a business suit, his decision to appear as a professional and a leader was not a role he decided to play. It was not a role at all. It was his natural will, his natural power expressing itself . It was for him, a strong naturally powerful black man, a natural thing to do.
Although he hadn’t yet consciously thought about it at the deepest level, eventually he would. Eventually he would himself understand more consciously his own nature, his own strength and power. He would understand the statement he was making by appearing at a white ****** event as the sharpest, most professional man there.
Maybe he dressed like a leader because he was a leader. There was more. More than a better man or a leader, he was a ruler. If not yet, if he did not yet literally rule over them, then in the future he and other black men would, and they’d better get used to it.
More than a leader or even a ruler, he dressed as a conqueror, a conqueror of white people. Perhaps a conqueror first and foremost. Subject peoples could only be ruled after they were conquered. In that regard, white people were no different.
His outward friendly manner said “I like you. I respect you. Thank you for having me here in your house.”
His inward being, his inward nature, however, said, “I have conquered you, I willl rule you. I will fuck your white ******** and make her pregnant with my black baby and you will know that your bloodline and your race’s existence is at an end.
His dream, his manner, his natural superiority would cause them to tremble with fear and finally to acknowledge, even if silently in their white minds, the reality of the looming threat of racial oblivion that haunted them their whole lives.
She glanced sideways at him. Dressed as he was, he presented an appearance she’d never seen before. More than an appearance, it was an aura. Everything he wore was brand new. His suit, his trousers, his shirt and tie, his shoes. All brand new. All crisp. All perfect.
So many men, most men actually, look so artificial and uncomfortable in formal clothes, even in basic suits and ties. She swallowed and took a breath. Yet Bob, the black man she only just met and knew, unlike all the other men she’d ever known, looked perfectly natural. He showed no awkwardness or self consciousness, just self confidence and serenity.
When they first met he’d seemed a little nervous and insecure. Obviously she was his first white girl and he was desperate not to mess up by seeming too needy or coming on too strong. The balance of power was then on her side and they both knew it.
Now....
She took another breath and sighed. She felt him glance sideways at her. It was a fleeting glance, a momentary look away from the road ahead, but she felt it. They both did.
In her peripheral vision she’d seen his face. It was a clean honest face, confident and untroubled self consciousness or self doubt. He’d heard her sigh and glanced sideways. She was obviously alone with some deep thoughts and he resisted the temptation to ask what was on her mind. Let nature take its course. He understood. She’d explain herself when she was readly, if she would ever be ready.
Explain herself? Explain herself?
They’d gone far beyond that, far beyond any verbal explanation. She’d been with him. Sat next to him in class. Driven with him around town. Attended a black church. Together they shared the weight of the eyes of jealous black girls focused on both of them, with envy and even hatred.
More than that, she’d sucked his powerful dick, more than once. She’d known its worth, its hardness, its softness, its excitement, and the gush of his sperm. There was no denying that bond between them, no denying the power of his natural attraction and no...no ever going back.
Her ******, her father and mother, everyone...they would know it too. They’d know it all. They’d know she was forever lost to them and ultimately they’d learn that they were fore ever doomed to conquest and rule and the loss of everything they’d known.
She looked at the clock again and then up at the freeway and the white lines shooting by. The moment of truth was at hand.
