Deconstructing the Professor

Supper was planned for six o'clock, and when it reached ten after six I began to relax. Perhaps she wasn't coming. Keisha was dressed in a power suit, having come directly from work. The twins, on the other hand, were dressed in designer jeans and shirts like they almost always wore.

I'd just begun to serve supper after half an hour of polite chit-chat, when there was a knock at the door. I let out a sigh and excused myself, knowing the kids weren't going to get off their lazy asses. I took a long deep breath and opened the door. Madison looked beautiful as always. She was dressed to impress in a black skirt, just above the knee, matching black pantyhose or stockings, and a nice flower print blouse. She smiled and asked, "You haven't started without me, have you?"

"I was just bringing the food to the table," I replied.

"Good," she smiled and after a few seconds of awkward silence, "Are you going to invite me in?"

I stammered, "O-o-of course. Please don't let my children know about what I've done."

"If you behave tonight my slut, the nature of our relationship and everything else will remain our little secret... for now," she promised, and yet hinted at breaking the promise... eventually. A chill went up my spine at the threat of future humiliation and the potential disclosure of my sins.

She sauntered in, and I led her into the dining room. The look on the face of each of my children upon seeing this beautiful white girl joining our family gathering was interesting. Keisha's face expressed impatience and annoyance; Nicholas' was one of horny male adolescence; while Nicole displayed a mixture of surprise and admiration.

I introduced her to my children, "Keisha, Nicholas and Nicole, this is Madison Adams; she's a student in my Race and Ethnicity class. We'd made a previous arrangement to meet this evening to discuss her research project." It was a lie, and a lame one at that, since Keisha would know because of my unbreachable professional principles that I would never invite a student over to my house... ever. And my assigned essays were always completed by now. On top of that, what student comes to meet their professor dressed so attractively? That said, it was all I could think of to cling to my fragile dignity.

Madison added, acting like a sweet southern belle, "I'm so sorry to impose, but Felicia said she'd prepared way too much food."

I winced at her calling me Felicia, another thing Keisha knew I'd never allow. I concealed my worries and offered Madison a seat beside me. Once she sat down, I began dishing out the dinner, as I always did.

I started with my guest and served her a fresh bun. I continued distributing the buns and then sat down with mine. As the others began cutting and buttering, Madison asked, "Felicia, could you butter my bun?" I was mortified. Madison saw the look on my face and temporarily saved me by adding, "Sorry to be such a prima donna, but I had my nails done just before I came here, and I'd hate to wreck one."

Feeling a shameful burning inside, I avoided eye contact with my kids while I took her bun and obliged her, which probably looked harmless to the kids, but I knew was a subtle test of my obedience.

I handed it to her hoping no one else noticed her smug smile.

After a couple minutes of silence, just as I began passing the salad around, Madison initiated some conversation, addressing the twins, "So are you two in college? I think I'd remember you."

Nicholas blushed at the flattery while Nicole explained, "Oh no, no, we're seniors in high school."

"Really? You look older than that," Madison said, clearly buttering her up.

Nicole blushed with pride, then glared at me, "Thank you; someone treats me like I'm still twelve."

Madison looked at Nicholas, her voice just hinting at flirtation, "And you too, Nic, I assumed you were my age."

Nicholas tried to play it cool but failed miserably, "Yeah, I get that all the time."

"I bet you do," Madison responded slyly, making Nicholas melt and Keisha shake her head in disgust. I was riddled with anxiety as I watched Madison inserting herself in my family.

Trying to break the adulation her would-be white siblings were bestowing on Madison, Keisha asked, "And what are you writing your paper on?"

"Oh, it's a little bit edgy and controversial," Madison deflected. "On a different happier note, I understand this supper is in your honour."

Not one to be the center or attention, Keisha humbly replied, "It's just a good opportunity to give back."

Madison asked, acting all curious, "How so?"

"Well, I mean with the upcoming election in 2020, it's important to protect the rights of all minorities, not just blacks, in the re-districting and gerrymandering that has been all too common," Keisha explained, her tone implying Madison wouldn't understand.

Madison asked, "Felicia, could you get me some iced tea?"

I stood up, again feeling humiliated at being treated like a maid in my own house, and tried to make it casual by asking, "Does anyone else want some iced tea?"

Both my twins in unison, obviously wanting to be just like Madison, echoed each other, "I would."

Keisha, her voice flat, replied, "I'm fine." Her eyes displayed her displeasure at this whole ordeal.

I returned to the table and handed my guest and the twins glasses of iced tea.

Madison looked at it like it was poison. "Could I have some ice in my iced tea, Felicia?"

"Of course," I replied too quickly.

"Me too," each twin added.

I retrieved the drinks, hoping my submissive behaviour wasn't as obvious as I felt it must be.

I returned a second time and heard Madison explaining the same theory she'd already presented to me, about blacks being better off in the past. I sat down and listened as Keisha glared at me to interrupt, to defend, to contradict this white know-it-all. Yet to her intense frustration, I remained silent while Madison spewed her racist rubbish.

The next fifteen minutes was a mix of eating and heavy disagreement between Madison and Keisha while I remained silent and got wetter and wetter down below, no matter how hard I tried to suppress my arousal.

By this time Madison had finished explaining her outrageous theory and Keisha was about to explode. I went to get dessert and Keisha followed me into the kitchen.

"Why is this person here?" my daughter confronted me.

"I'm sorry, dear," I replied, "I'd forgotten all about my arrangement with her, so when she arrived I invited her to stay, not thinking she would."

"She's a racist bitch," Keisha accused.

"Oh honey, she just comes from a very old school family. It's our job to break these stereotypes by teaching her the truth," I lied.

"I can't believe she believes such absurd nonsense. Has she learned nothing from your course?"

"It's been a slow, effortful learning curve," I sighed.

"She spouts her rubbish with such blithe authority and self-confidence, and she's treating you like you're her maid."

"She is not," I disagreed, knowing full well my daughter was correct.

"No? You went back and fetched ice for her iced tea," my daughter pointed out.

I defended, I hoped believably, "Oh honey, I'm just being a good host. On that note, we should get back in there with dessert."

We returned, and Madison was giving fashion advice to Nicole, who was idolizing her completely.

We sat back down and Madison asked, although her tone didn't sound at all like a request, "May I have some ice cream with this? Vanilla."

I got back up and looked at the twins, who each gave me a dumbfounded look at my subservient behaviour and, I imagine, at my acquiescence to this white girl treating their mother like a waitress, or worse, a servant in her own house.

I was ashamed, humiliated and embarrassed, but I was also guilty and ashamed that my pussy was tingling and begging for attention. I returned and scooped white ice cream for Madison and the twins. Her stubborn behaviour clearly established, Keisha, not surprisingly, declined the offer.

Madison asked Keisha, "So tell me about this case you're working on."

"It wouldn't be interesting to you," Keisha replied, dismissing Madison's interest.

"No, please do. I'm trying to get my head wrapped around why we as taxpayers should pay for a court case over something so absurd," Madison explained blithely, pushing Keisha's buttons and testing me.

Trying to rescue my daughter and to save some face with her I explained, "Every ten years with the decennial census, the lines of voting districts are reset based on updated census figures. Historically and traditionally, whichever party is in power in each state at the time takes advantage of the occasion to redraw the district lines in their own favour, a practice which is termed gerrymandering. Sometimes they make deals that benefit factions of both parties, such as drawing districts that maximize blacks and/or other minorities in one district while maximizing conservative whites in another district, in effect segregating districts and constituencies racially and ideologically, securing the ongoing election of black or Hispanic Democrats in one district and conservative Republicans in another district."

Madison listened and then said, "But since both parties agree, no disadvantage exists."

Keisha, her tone barely concealing her brimming anger, "First Madison, you, being a white girl in a white world, would never understand the harsh realities of being black. On a historical note, there's been a long history and a strong tradition in both parties, of gerrymandering to rig districts to favour one party or group over others. It may be agreed upon by both parties, for mutual advantage, but it's clearly, both politically and ethically, unfair and undemocratic." Now on a roll, her voice dripping with contempt for this opinionated white girl who had crashed her special night, she continued, "Also, by creating districts that are more homogeneous and less diverse by race, class and ideology, gerrymandering has been a major factor in creating gridlock in national and state legislatures, making it easier for more extreme, ideologically rigid candidates to get elected, which makes it less necessary for them to moderate their views to appeal to diverse constituencies. In fact, I would argue that just like having racially segregated schools creates separate and unequal education, where the lack of racial and cultural diversity lowers all students' education in the broadest sense, graduating students who are ill-equipped to contribute to a diverse society, voting districts that are segregated by race, ethnicity, class and ideology have the same effects, in effect clogging the very dialogue between diverse groups that is necessary for a democracy to function. If you don't have an electorate, and hence legislatures, that respect each other's differences and that expects compromises, then democracy, quite simply, doesn't work. And if you want hard evidence, just look at both houses of Congress in recent years: no matter which side of the aisle you favour, by and large our lawmakers aren't working with their colleagues on the other side to get anything useful accomplished."

Madison, attempting to be just slightly condescending, clapped. "Wow, that was a very impassioned argument, yet it still doesn't justify the money spent on lawyers and court cases, especially when they offer no solution to the so-called problem."

"It's not about a solution. It's about equity. Both major political parties and all of the political and ideological groups involved, naturally prefer drawing districts in ways that favour their re-election, rather than having a fair, level playing field for open competition. And they have large organizations, lobbying and campaign money backing them up."

Madison, her hand now on my leg and under my skirt, countered, "But so do you, don't you? You have the NAACP, do you not? Are they not a lobbying organization with big money backing them up? Christ, didn't they help win the Obama elections?"

"Oh, my God. It's exactly that type of white world thinking that still holds us back. Ever since the 1964 Voting Rights Act, and each time the Act has been renewed since then, Southern states with histories of Jim Crow laws and voter discrimination have had to have any voting laws and re-districting decisions reviewed by the Civil Rights division of the Justice Department just because they've proven in the past that they can't be trusted to be fair. Historically, the NAACP has followed state voting laws and re-districting closely, and advocated with the Justice Department and sometimes against them in court, particularly with Republican administrations. Their lobbying, if it can be called that, is in favour of giving all voters an equal chance to be influential, they aren't just some ideological lobbying group trying to be heard," Keisha finished, slamming her fist on the table and standing up.

Madison squeezed my leg and stood up as well. Her tone changed from confrontational to accommodating. "I'm so sorry, Keisha. I grew up in a home where arguing was the only way to be heard. Sometimes I just fight to fight." Madison walked over to my elder daughter and wrapped her arms around her. The contrast between my daughter's black as night skin and Madison's white as snow skin was so apparent that it bordered on the absurd. Oddly, the feelings bubbling inside me weren't motherly and protective, but rather jealous and envious. Madison had never once touched me with such tenderness. My daughter, who hates hugs, was stiff as a board at first, but much to my surprise melted in Madison's white arms, something she'd never done whenever I'd attempted to console her about something. My jealousy only multiplied: both at Madison, who'd gotten a physically emotional response from my daughter that I'd never experienced, and at Keisha, for receiving the tender passion I'd never received from my new Mistress. Suddenly, realizing my weakness and the fact that I'd just thought of Madison as my Mistress, I shook myself back to reality.

"Nicole and Nicholas," I ordered, "Please start putting the dishes away."

Madison, letting Keisha out of her white cocoon asked, "Felicia, could you please do it for us? I'd like to get to know your kids better." Although her tone was friendly and her rationale logical, I knew by her expression that this too was an order and not a suggestion.

A fake smile plastered across my face, I replied, my voice way too syrupy to be believable, "Sure, you guys go hang out. I'll clean up the dishes."

I looked at Keisha, whose expression was utter confusion. A look I could recognize all too well from the inside out. Her pussy was tingling, and she couldn't figure out why. Madison took her hand, "Would you favour me with a tour?"

Trying to ignore the tingle, Keisha shook her head just slightly before replying, "Um... sure." I watched the white coed leading my strong, independent, almost full-blooded black daughter out of the dining room.

I cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and washed the few large dishes. The entire time panic was filling me as I wondered what Madison had in mind not only for me, but now for my children as well. Nicole was clearly in awe of Madison already, while I knew exactly what face and boobs Nicholas would be whacking off to tonight. But Keisha was exactly like me, which was why we butted heads so much. She was pig-headed, stubborn, proud and determined to prove herself in a white man's world. This focus left her emotionally unavailable and, like me, the perfect prey for a hunter like Madison. I left the dishes to air dry, something I never did, and went to find the four of them.

My head spun with a trillion ugly scenes I could find when I got to the living room. Yet what I found was all four of them playing Just Dance on the Wii.

Seeing Madison's stocking-clad toes sent me back to earlier in the day. My mouth watered, and I couldn't believe how much I craved her salty sweat. Like a dog watching a tennis ball during a match, I stared at her feet moving all around the floor. I just wanted to fall to the floor, grab her foot and clean it. Of course, sanity prevented any such activity and when the song ended, Nicholas went to the washroom. Madison asked, "Do you have another washroom? All that physical activity has awakened my bladder."

"On the second floor. It'll be the second door on your left," Nicole instructed.

"Thanks, cutie," Madison winked at my younger daughter and walked past me, a smile on her face that screamed trouble.

Once she was gone, Keisha remarked, "She's quite the fireball."

I laughed for the first time in days, agreeing "That she is."

"I think she's awesome," Nicole gushed like a star-struck teenager, "and she's taking me shopping sometime soon."

"She is?" I asked, surprised by this new piece of information.

All giddy and excited, a side of Nicole I seldom saw, she added, "She also said she'd get me into her big year-end sorority party, which means she can also get me an early invite to pledge next year."

"She did, did she?" I asked, very worried about her intentions.

"Yes," Nicole confirmed. "Madison is awesome."

Keisha chipped in her opinion, "She's a psycho just begging to be analyzed."

"Who? Madison or Nicole?" I joked.

Keisha allowed a rare smile to cross her face, which made her look even prettier, "Well both actually, but I was talking about Madison."

"Shut up," Nicole snapped.

We both ignored her. "Yeah, I still haven't figured her out."

"Oh, I have," Keisha asserted confidently.

"Do tell," I enquired.

"Isn't it obvious? She has to always be the centre of attention. She also has to test how far she can go before she's stopped, very typical spoiled brat syndrome. She treated you like a maid during supper, and when you didn't refuse to do anything, she pushed you even further. As for me, she challenged me, I stood my ground and she backed down. She even apologized to me, kind of."

I contemplated this assessment, ignoring the critical pot shot my daughter had taken at me. Was she right? If I stood up to Madison, I mean really stood up to her, damn the consequences of the photos, would she leave me alone? Or did I even want to be left alone? The answer should have been an obvious and indisputable: yes! Yet my very damp, needy vagina had a very different opinion, which I desperately tried to resist with every fibre of my being.

I ignored my moral dilemma, instead defending myself. "Keisha, I wasn't being her maid; I was just being a good host."

"If you say so, Mother," she replied, her disdainful tone clearly conveying that she didn't agree with me and she thought less of me for being such a pushover.

"She isn't gone, is she?" my son asked in a panic, returning from the bathroom.

Nicole replied sarcastically, "No, Nic. She's upstairs, getting undressed in your bedroom."

"Nicole!" I gasped.

"What? Nicholas has been drooling all night, and staring at her boobs like a complete creep."

"I have not!" Nicholas protested defiantly, his face giving away his true feelings.

Nicole pushed it further, "I thought you were going to pull out your lizard and offer it to her as an appetizer."

"Enough!" I exploded

"Enough what?" Madison asked, returning downstairs.

"Oh nothing. The twins are just disagreeing, as always," I explained.

"My sister and I used to fight too, but now we're really, really close," Madison responded. Only I was aware of the reason they no longer fought, and the underlying implications of her words.

Keisha announced, "I need to get going. I have to get up early tomorrow."

Madison yawned, "I should get going, too. I let my sister borrow my car and just got dropped off here. Can you give me a ride to the sorority?"

Keisha's face said no, but her lips said, "Sure."