A Tale of Forbidden Love
by
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"Next Morning and After" Morning sounds are filtering into the room. Little black children, up and about, laughing, playing, seemingly unmindful of the hard lives predestined for them, the bleak future on the plantation for a slave in white man’s world. Breakfast cooking smells; fancy plantation 'fixins' replace the earlier predawn morning smell of gruel and porridge, humbler fuel for the slave day toil in the hot summer fields. Now it was pancakes, eggs, chicory, bacon, and food for the ‘up ones’ at the big house. A persistent robin sounds its stay away call, warning intruders not to get too close to the precious little young swaying in the earth and grass nest holding its fragile generation. Curtains flutter, whispering morning breeze, still night cool, but gradually giving way to midday Southern humid heat. It’s unusually quiet in the ‘big place’. House slaves, usually laughing, talking, maybe even humming some gospel tune, this morning are quiet and fearful. Foreboding, shock, and disbelief permeate the moment. Batta, usually proud and sometimes haughty, most times never lets the common ‘house niggers’ forget she’s the one of privilege. She’s the Mistress’ ‘house slave’, special, and not just some common darkie. Not this morning. She wishes she could hide from everyone. She can’t believe it; her mistress bedded with big Buck, and him a lowly slave. What did that make Batta now? Her lady was no lady, almost a nigger herself or maybe worse. It was all right at the plantation for the Master to be with the slave girls even if Lady did get angry. Never though, was it expected for one of the black males to bed with a plantation lady. That lesson was learned in a hurry. You didn’t lust and you didn’t look. Many young colored males fascinated by the bustle and color of southern finery, all that lace and fancy petticoats, received their ‘twenty lashes’ because they didn't look away soon enough when one of those fine southern ‘ladies’ flurried by. Lady Jane wakes with a start. It’s late. All she wanted was a chance to put herself together before everyone else was up and now here it was probably mid morning already. She had to clean up, get rid of the evidence of her night with him. Alive? Sure! Her body never felt better, in fact. Sticky. Evidence of her so-called ‘vengeance’ was everywhere, sheets, her slim body; inner thighs. What was once the juice of passion, a lubricant allowing exotic matching of her tightness to his largeness, now was something ugly, the proof of her shame. She. A lady from one of Mississippi’s best families had bedded with an animal, a big black nigger. No passion now. "If he finds out, my husband will kill me. I really hadn't wanted to do anything anyway. Maybe I can say that big slave forced his way on me. I can blame my clumsy man; say if he hadn’t been so insistent about going off to the big city, he’d have been here to protect me from that mean savage. Black and Sabine, that giant practically tore me apart with his animal needs."
****************************** He said he didn’t know how to bring it off, but she sure did. Called him that Thursday night, the night before the twins were born. Said she was going to be cheerleading at the game Friday night and he should meet her. He should go to the game. She’d be cheerleading. He should sit up high in the home bleachers and wait for the second half. Keep his eye on her and after they shot the third basket, he should go out the hall, and start walking toward the North exit, the one on High Street. "I’ll have pretended I’m sick and go to my locker to get my coat to leave. You walk real slowly till you see me and I’ll lead the way out to my car. Stay back away from me, though till you se me get in my car. I don’t want some ‘jerk’ telling my mother about us being together and all. We drive way back down by the river. The snows been all melted but there’s a little mud, not enough to get stuck, though. It’s started to snow again but not real bad yet. Good thing, she has us parked so far back in we’d have never gotten out. The car was all steamy and warm. Me too, I was burning up by then. Here, all during that game I had watched her toss that sweet little butt around, watched that little skirt flippin like crazy, and those orange panties sticking out, showing where her triangle ended and legs began. She’d kick those pretty long white legs up, they’d all be doing that of course, but my eyes were only on her. Anyway, up would go a leg in a high kick. I’d see that beautiful spot there between her legs and dream about how, real soon, I was going to be tucked away so nicely in that very place. All them girls looked good, sure did, but her-- knowing I was probably going to have her, had me practically insane with desire. Good? It was more than that. She looked absolutely perfect in that little black and orange outfit. When I admired her, she laughed demurely and said, "I guess I forgot my pom-poms." "Oh, here they are." Then she shocks me, pulls up her sweater and right there, all exposed and all, is a pair of most perfect ones you’d find anywhere...no bra, just the way you’d see in some men’s magazine, picture perfect. I don’t know how you’d find a prettier, more exotic sight anywhere. She slides the front seat up and I follow her into the back. It’s a big car. She says she used her Mom’s big car so her and I would have a lot of room for what was going to happen tonight. We’re kissing now. She says she never kissed a ‘colored’ before but that sure didn’t slow her down any. Her tongue and mine just naturally find their way together, she likes long, passionate kisses, and she sure is sucking away inside my mouth. She’s already showed me her big knockers so it was real easy for me to take off her sweater and see how they taste. Nestled up in with those big knockers, I feel her heat, her scent. It reminds me of a little girl, maybe like spearmint gum or something. The car is really steaming up now. The heater is still running and the radio is playing some romantic Country music. Normally I like soul but white man’s music sounded just fine that night, kind of right for the occasion if you get what I mean. She gets my thing out, and she was really happy with it. Said she had always heard black men had big ones and now she had found out for herself. She said she could hardly wait to get me in her. She wanted me to put on something I hadn’t ever seen or used before, condom I think she called it. Later I learned that most people call it a ‘rubber’. Anyway I was kind of surprised about it, didn’t really want anything between my woman and me. I couldn’t figure out how to get anything like that little piece of rubber on my big hard one.
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About the Book
A Tale of FORBIDDEN LOVE
Plantation Woman highlights the effect sexual moral decay has on a white female child growing up on a Southern plantation. From her discovery as a small child of her father engaged in the sex act with her colored "Mam," to her own experiments and ultimate conquest of a young slave boy as a teen – the story weaves a tale of revenge totally decimating the illusion that white man could have his sexual freedom without a resulting consequence.
(any) Ladies Man moves the reader through time and several generations of a black man’s lineage and the often-disastrous results of interracial relations. The races are obviously separated, "coloreds not allowed" is the sign of the day in white folk’s places, but whites can gamble, buy illegal liquor, yes, even buy a few minutes of a young colored girl’s favors for a small price, at one of the Negro "jukes." Maybe an adventurous white woman frequenting one of these places can even find "black magic" with "Ladies Man."
About the Author
What’s a sixty-six year old man doing writing an erotic novel with such a serious message? Maybe he’s always been a "ladies’ man" and wants to regain his youth – relive what he’s done and what he wishes he had done. Maybe he gets some kind of perverse delight in writing sexy passages. Maybe he’s always been a rebel and, true to his heritage, writes an epic of a subject until recently totally taboo – interracial sexual relations, especially white women with black males. The author during his troubled teen years had his own experiences with places like those depicted in Ladies Man. At age sixteen he, reflective of his troubled youth at that point, was a regular frequenter of several "colored" establishments offering many of the "indulgences" portrayed in these chapters. His "mentor" at this time was a young professional gambler who taught him the inner "refinements" of poker and other games of "chance." The primary lesson the author learned from his "lessons" was: "You aren’t going to win if you gamble. There’s always someone who knows the game better than you." The author’s resume starts as a high school dropout, roofer, factory worker, milkman, over-the-road truck driver, candy machine sales, work in research and development, and self-employment, finally retiring after twenty-plus years of business administration and being C.E.O. of multi-million dollar organizations employing up to one-hundred employees. He is married, has four children and seven grandchildren, and makes his home in Pueblo, Colorado. He likes the great outdoors, and also for the past year has absorbed himself in his newest project – being an author.