Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 10

I stood before her waiting for her to acknowledge me. She removed her eyes from the computer screen and looked up to me.

"Make us some fresh salad and bring me a cup of coffee." she directed.

"S-S-Salad?" I asked, repeating her command.

My nervousness and timid response seemed to amuse her in some way.

"Yes! A salad. You do know what a salad is, don't you?" she asked, in complete sarcasm.

Her sarcasm made me blush and I felt so embarrassed by my less than educated response. Perhaps, I was just so nervous and scared that I wasn't thinking when I answered her. I simply nodded a "yes" and turned away to head towards the kitchen, once again.

As I began preparing a cup of Africa Kitamu coffee for the young and bossy black woman she yelled out.

"No onions, lots of black olives, tomatoes, shredded cheese and french dressing." she directed as her cell phone rang.

I could not answer before I heard young Alexis beginning to speak to the caller. Then, she turned on the speaker function of her phone. She continued clicking away on her computer as she answered. The caller was Sarah, the mid 60's white woman shop owner we had seen just hours earlier.

From the kitchen, I overheard the conversation as I prepared the salad for Alexis.

"Miss Alexis? I am having the outfits you selected for Gretchen delivered to you tonight. They are on their way now." Sarah said.

"Very good, Sarah." Alexis returned.

"Thank you, again, Miss Alexis." Sarah replied.

The older white woman was about to end the call when the young black woman stopped her.

"Sarah, wait!" Alexis Barron ordered.

"Yes, Miss Alexis?" Sarah answered, inquisitively.

There was a long pause. The beautiful, black teenager began scrolling through the shop's website on her laptop as she began speaking again.

"Sarah, I've changed my mind." she began.

"Yes, Miss Alexis?" Sarah replied in a curious tone.

"Sarah, I've decided to change the girl's outfits a bit." Alexis began.

There was a longer period of silence as I served the young black woman the cup of coffee she ordered. She was still perusing the shop's web site and had a long, thin cigarette in between her two fingers. She motioned for me to light the cigarette for her. Humbly, I did so as the older white female shop owner waited on the phone in complete silence.

Nervously, I turned away and headed back to the kitchen to finish preparing Alexis Barron's salad.

"Sarah, I'm going to go with the same white skirt I chose for Gretchen instead of the black skirts they're wearing now. I don't want them matching my outfit anymore." she said.

"Besides, white is the more subordinate color. It will fit in much better. So, it will be the white skirt, white blouse, white 5 inch pumps with the wider ankle strap, red choker and a wide red belt." Alexis explained.

Sarah paused a moment. "Yes, M-Miss Alexis. I can g-get that done for you first thing tomorrow, if th-that's alright." she stuttered.

"Tonight!" Alexis demanded, authoritatively.

"You still have the girl's sizes, correct?" Alexis asked Sarah.

"Y-Yes, Miss Alexis. I d-do have them but it's already past 4:30 and we close at 5 o'clock on Sundays, Miss Alexis." Sarah replied.

There was an uncomfortable pause and I could feel a tension in the air as I continued to prepare the salad. My back was turned away from the livingroom as I bent over the counter to chop the black olives into small, thin slices. I started on the first tomato and felt uneasy with the silence.

"Tonight!" Alexis repeated, firmly.

"T-T-Tonight?" Sarah asked, nervously.

Alexis Barron's tone grew more intimdating.

"Did I stutter?" she asked, her voice now irritated.

"Oh, m-my. N-No, M-Miss Alexis. No, Y-You d-did not stutter, M-Miss Alexis, Ma'am. N-No, not at all, Miss Alexis. Of c-course not, M-Miss Alexis. I-I-I will have them done immediately, Ma'am. Right away, M-Miss Alexis." Sarah answered in a noticeably terrifed tone.

I felt so embarrassed hearing the much older white woman being verbally bullied by the black teenaged woman. She must have felt like I did and hearing Alexis Barron's firmer tone compelled me to work faster in preparing her salad.

"Very good. Have them all at my office by 8 o'clock tomorrow morning and have my girls return their black skirts to you." She commanded.

"Y-Yes, Miss Alexis. I-I will, M-Miss Alexis." Sarah replied.

The 18-year-old black woman simply ended the call as I timidly carried two bowls of salad into the living room, hers and mine.

Alexis accepted the salad without a word and began eating, daintily. Seeing the sofa covered in files, binders, reports and the ashtray off to her right side I simply sat on the floor and began eating my own salad. I felt nervous and intimidated by her sudden firm tone with the older Sarah. I had thought they were more like friends until I overheard that conversation.

As I quietly ate my own salad Alexis continued browsing on her lap top. It was difficult to eat as my stomach felt like it was in knots. My humiliation and the intimidation I was feeling was almost overwhelming. Still, I needed some form of nourishment and for some reason I almost felt grateful that she was allowing me to eat without interruption.

The young black woman began talking about her plans for the office and the strategies for our new product line. She had made so many brilliant decisions and accomplished so much more than I ever could imagine. Her sharp business mind and dominant personality took full control of my business, and of me.

It was truly humbling how young, smart, beautiful and in control she was. It was embarrassing how someone so young and seemingly so naive outclassed me in every way. My feelings of defeat continued to grow as I sat there looking at her in awe as I picked through my own salad.

"Here, look." she snapped, happily turning the lap top screen towards me.

"I made some changes to the office design these last couple of days. I just got the email saying they just finished." Alexis stated.

Defeatedly, I just looked at the screen in absolute and utter amazement. On it were pages and pages of photos of the newly designed offices of my own company. Unbelievably, the young black woman had ordered the simple aesthetic changes of our offices, and the contractors had been working on them since we left there on Saturday morning.

The photos I was now looking at were both startling and curious. It didn't even look like my own company anymore. The changes were not constructive changes. They were merely design changes, and changes to some of the desks and chairs. The changes absolutely floored me.

The colors to the walls and the pictorial accents to them were all of an african design. The lighter toned mocha-brown walls had a darker mocha brown trim and base board, and they were filled by black-framed african art designs, paintings and images.

Images of the yellow, green and black colors of the African flag, black femininity and african landscapes filled the framed artwork. Black statuettes of female images, which were carved in what seemed like an ebony stone, adorned the desks, counters and file cabinets. Plants and potted small palm trees decorated the open areas and entrances to the only 3 glass doored private offices we had.

Everything in the company was now a distinctly african design.

"See. Isn't that pretty?" Alexis asked, in an obvious condescending tone.

"Looks better, more youthful than that old stuffy white bread office we had before, huh?" she asked.

I didn't know what else to say, or how to react. Seeing the dramatic changes to my own company in such a short period of time was shocking. I was in total disbelief of what she was showing me. The gall this young black woman had in getting this done was immeasurable and incalculable. My face beamed a bright red as she peered over the top of her lap top screen and flipped through the screens of numerous photos.

"Here's some of the new furniture." she said, clicking onto the next page.

I gazed upon the photos of the new office staff chairs, which were completely backless and cushioned in a rich fern green cloth. It was consistent with the african style motif. The chairs were these modern styled desk seats designed to promote a better posture and less back strain with no backing at all. To me, it almost appeared more like the person seated at them would be actually kneeling before their desks. I looked into Alexis' eyes, curiously.

"They're for better posture. People work better and are more alert using them." she explained, sensing my curiosity.

I returned my eyes back to the screen as the young black woman clicked onto the next page. My face was red from embarrassment and the way I felt inside seemed much worse. Passively, I looked at the next photos.

"And, these are the new executive office chairs and desks." Alexis said, pointing to a group of 5 photographs from different angles.

The first photo showed a large, luxurious cushioned black leather swivel chair with a very high backing behind an immaculately polished redwood desk. Off to the left side corner of the executive's desk as it faces outward was a much lower side desk chair. This side desk chair was covered in the same fern green fabric as the office assistant's chairs in the front office, only it had a full back and a small matching redwood desk surface mounted before it.

I found this quite curious and even confusing.

As I looked at the photo from another angle, I noticed that the corner of the executive's hardwood desk was partly cut away. In it's place was a simple one foot long and 8 inch wide cushioned black leather padding neatly mounted to the side and top of the main desk. It was slightly curved inward and partially "hollowed" out in an almost half moon shape. The softer padded opening faced up while the length of it pointed straight to the side desk chair, which was ridiculously close.

I had never seen anything like this before.

"Oh, that's an ankle rest. It's the newest thing. All three of the executive offices have them." Alexis explained.

When the young black woman clicked to another angle of the same photograph it was obvious this new side desk chair was quite a bit lower to the ground than a normal chair would be. That so called ankle rest faced directly towards the smaller visitor's chair, nearly meeting on the same level. The seat of the side desk chair, itself, seemed to be at least 8 inches lower than most office chairs. It was actually anchored to the side of the larger executive style desk, and bolted into place.

Another angle clearly showed the side desk chair attached to the executive's large desk with a much smaller matching desk top set before it, yet it was just as low as the side desk chair.

It truly looked like a modifed, upholstered version of one of those older grade school attached chair and desk top sets. It appeared almost insulting and degrading, and I stared at this photo with a bewildered look on my face.

"I just love this modern look. It works so well for Management and their assistans to work closer together. It saves on space too." Alexis Barron said, confidently.

It all looked unusual to me. But, my focus was on how dramatic the decor had changed. The 18-year-old black woman had made so many changes to match her personal interests. Her boldness and the manner in which she was controlling things intimidated me, and I was becoming more intimidated with each passing day. I felt completely weakened and could not respond in protest, despite me feelings of concern.

Young Alexis pulled the lap top back to her lap as she sat back comfortably. Again, she propped her bare feet onto the glass table and crossed them at the ankles. She seemed to be admiring her choices on the new designs as she viewed the photos and then lit a cigarette for herself.

"You like it, huh?" she asked, arrogantly.

Defeatedly, I answered. "Yes, Ma'am."

My soft, faint whisper caught her attention and she now looked directly at me. My facial expression must have shown her how I really felt, which was humiliated, concerned and upset by all these changes.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, sternly.

Her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes stared into my eyes for a mere second before I lowered them to the floor. I began to tremble and grew nervous by her sudden displeasure and tone. My face felt flush and perspiration began to slightly trickle down from the towel on my head and to my cheeks.

I had tried to contain my true feelings of her rudeness and arrogance in changing my offices. But, it was now obvious that I was unable to.

To the 18-year-old black girl, it appeared that she viewed my facial expression as a sign of total disrespect and lack of appreciation for her efforts.

"Is there?" she asked.

"N-N-N-No, Ma'am." I answered, now quivering.

There was a pause which felt like it lasted an eternity. The young black dominant was angry and perturbed by my lack of enthusiasm for the changes she had worked so hard to make. Her lit cigarette remained between her fingers and burned slowly as she disgarded her computer notebook to the sofa cushion off her left side. She bent over, placing her elbows onto her knees.

Alexis Barron stared right at me with a fierce look on her beautifully flawless face.

"Come closer." she ordered.

I nearly fainted. My fear was at it's peak as I shook uncontrollably and tried keeping my eyes from meeting hers again. Unintentionally, I blurted out the words I had been keeping inside of me.

"N-No, p-please?" I pleaded in a faint whisper.

The young black woman was unaccepting of my plea. Angered, she reached over and grabbed my face by the cheeks with her one hand, holding her lit cigarette in the other. With more force she pulled me closer to her and squeezed my cheeks firmly. I was now on my knees before her as she sat at the end of the sofa holding my face.

With her gorgeous face and perfectly-formed lips less than an inch before mine, she began to scold me.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she bashed.

"Do you have any idea how much work I've put into this pathetic company of yours?" she screamed.

"I am making something of this company. I'm not running it like some dumb, old weak ass white bitch. You got that?" she yelled.

"Huh?" she asked, again.

Her grip on my face tightened. Her nails seemed to dig into my embarrassed and frightened face as she continued to berate me.

Embarrassed, I nodded a simple "yes" as she continued grasping my blushing face more firmly.

I could not vocalize any response as she continued to tighten her grip on my cheeks to the next level. She continued yelling and scolding me from merely an inch away.

"Look at you. Just look at you!" Alexis yelled.

It was precisely at this time that the door bell rang. Young Alexis was ignoring it and looking dead into my timid eyes as she held my face. A sharp knock followed the chime of the doorbell, and this seemed to disturb her.

"What? Who is it?" she yelled towards the door from a short distance.

There was no response.

"Come in already." Alexis yelled towards the closed door.

I remained kneeling before the young black woman, sitting on the backs of my legs as she continued holding onto my face firmly. My back was to the front door and, initially, I could not see who had entered. I could just hear the verbal exchange between Alexis Barron and the woman who had just entered.

"Who the hell are you?" Alexis asked, disturbed.

"Well, I-I'm Linda from Miss S-Sarah's shop, Miss. I have a d-delivery of several packages for you, Miss. If that's okay with you." the woman answered nervously. It was obvious this woman was shocked by the sight of what she had just walked in on, which was the scene of Alexis Barron scolding me.

"Very well. Bring them all in." Alexis ordered.

"Yes, M-Miss. I'll bring them in right away." Linda answered, turning and walking out to retrieve the packages from her car.

I would later discover that Linda was the shop owner's assistant. She was a 39-year-old white woman who had been divorced for only a year, and working part time for Sarah since then. Linda was an attractive auburn-haired irish woman with a 5'9" tall, 132 lb. frame and larger breasts. By her voice, she seemed startled by what she had just walked in on.

My embarrassment increased as young Alexis turned her attention back to me. Linda's sudden appearance did not even break her concentration at all as she continued holding my face with her left hand. Her scolding of me simply continued.

"Look at you. Pathetic." the 18-year-old black woman continued.

"I bring your lame ass company more business and find so many problems and then fix them." she growled.

"You ran this company into the ground like some sort of idiot and I make the necessary changes it needs. You should feel lucky that I came along at the right time." Alexis yelled.

"You fudged your numbers and hid things. Your mistakes could put you in jail if I showed them to the IRS, ya' know. You're lucky I haven't turned you in." she threatened.

"Isn't that right?" she asked loudly, her lips merely inches from my face.

"Y-Yes, Alexis. Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered her, meekly.

As Linda made several trips in and out to deliver the packages, the young black woman continued holding onto my face effortlessly. Her scolding never stopped. Her threats to reveal all the finacial mistakes I had made worried me, greatly.

"Listen. I do not need any attitude from you, ya' hear?" she snapped.

"I've done more than all of y'all old dumb asses have done combined, and I expect to be shown some damn respect. Understood?" she ripped.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I softly answered, deeply embarrassed by how intimidated I was.

At this time, I thought that this would be the end of her scolding of me. I had prayed that she would release my face from her grip and stop berating me, especially with the front door wide opened and the delivery woman coming in and out.

Alexis Barron wasn't ready to stop.

The young, black woman kept my face up looking towards her. She then took a drag of her long, thin cigarette and blew the smoke into my face from merely inches away. I coughed.

"Yes, Ma'am what?" she asked me in the most condescending tone of voice.

Timidly, I knelt there sitting on the backs of my legs thinking about what the young black woman had just said. I suppose that I was trying to figure out how she wanted me to respond to her at that particular time. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to the delivery person.

With my face still in her small hand, Alexis turned in the direction of the open door and to the tall irish woman. Apparently, Linda had been standing there for a few moments waiting patiently, and observing how the young black woman was treating me.

"What is it now? Is there something you need?" Alexis asked her rather firmly.

The 39-year-old white woman was noticeably flustered.

"Yes, M-Miss. Well, I have brought in all th-the packages and I-I just need a signature n-now, Miss." Linda stuttered.

"I'll be with you in a minute." Alexis directed.

Humiliatingly, young Alexis simply turned back to me and continued scolding me. She was waiting for my response as she now ignored the delivery person, making her stand there and wait.

"Yes, Ma'am what?" Alexis asked, repeating the question.

Her firmer tone seemed impatient now. I was petrified because I was not sure what to say, or how to respond. Somehow, it finally came to me and I answered the black girl in the best way I thought possible. In my mind, I answered in a way that would not anger her further.

"Y-Y-Yes, Ma'am. I-I understand." I whispered, defeatedly.

Alexis' grip of my cheeks remained as she took another drag of her Virginia Slims cigarette and looked deeper into my already humbled eyes.