Susan's Quest

Because a short story can be short, I'm currently experimenting with writing a variety of shorter stories that capture a tiny slice of life. This is one of them. Enjoy!



On a Thursday night the nightclub felt more like a bar than a party place. The DJ was more subdued. Only a few couples visited the dance floor to shake it up for their favorite songs or cling together in a pre-coitus mating ritual. Susan liked the half empty feeling of the club. This was better than the nights when it was crammed full of bodies too tightly to see who was who. She sat at a table by herself and sipped her third drink of the night as she watched him.

He stood at the bar and scanned the scant crowd. She studied him without him noticing. She watched the way his eyes moved like a predator. She saw how he measured his likelihood of success with every woman in the place. Some, he appeared to dismiss automatically. Others, his eyes followed as he considered the best approach. She knew he had seen her. She knew she had made it on his "maybe" list. She knew it bothered him the way she sat alone at a table and not the bar, as if she was daring a man to approach. Why kind of woman sits at a table in a nightclub by herself? A working girl? A girl waiting for a friend? A girl who doesn't want to be bothered? In the reflection of a mirror, she caught him looking at her again. He approved, she was sure of it.

Susan finished her drink and carried the empty wine glass towards the bar. She stood two spaces down from him, close enough for him to see her, but far enough to keep some space. As the bartender took her glass to refill it, she nodded at him and gave him a small smile. "Is the wine here any good?" he asked her.

"It's okay if you're not picky," she replied. They had to talk loud to be heard over the music.

"You look as if you know your wines."

"Not really. I don't like beer and mixed drinks fuck me up too fast," she said. She saw the way he smiled at her use of language. He moved closer.

"Nothing wrong with getting a little fucked up," he said with a big smile. His full lips revealed clean, white teeth. His eyes ran over her quickly before settling on her face.

"I don't fuck little," Susan replied. That made him laugh. She laughed with him. "Sorry," she quickly added, as if the wine had gotten to her. "I meant I don't need to get a little fucked up."

"I think you said what you meant the first time," he said. There wasn't much space between them, but he managed to move closer. "Can I ask what brings you out on a Thursday night?"

"You first," she said. She ran her eyes over his body. He was trim and well dressed.

"Just lonely," he said.

"As in, hoping to get lucky lonely?"

"Maybe," he said, giving her a cagey look. "If I met the right person."

"Ah, and what if you met the wrong one?"

"What could be wrong?" he asked. He looked her over again. "It all looks pretty right to me."

"Maybe I only want to find out what it's like to be with a black guy."

"Maybe I don't care."

"You don't think that's shallow?"

"Lady, if it gets me laid, maybe I don't care how shallow you are."

"Maybe you should buy me a shot," Susan suggested. He did.

There was a moment of negotiation in the parking lot deciding between his or her place and one or two cars. He was closer. She said she would follow him. "You know this is crazy," he said.

"Yeah," Susan agreed. "You care?"

"Guess not," he decided and led the way to his apartment. "I'm Travis," he said as he opened the door.

"Not Leon or Jamal or TeJay?"

Travis laughed. "Sorry. Want to call me Mandingo?"

"Not really," Susan said. She glanced around his apartment. It looked the same as any other man's apartment. Nice furniture. Spartan. Heavy emphasis on the TV and sound system. She pressed herself against the tall, dark skinned man. He kissed her. She was disappointed when his full lips didn't feel especially unique against hers. His kiss felt like a kiss. It wasn't a bad kiss nor especially good. He pressed against her, grabbing her ass and kissing her deeper. If she closed her eyes, she would have never known he was black. She kept her eyes open.

"Want to go to the bedroom?" Travis asked. She shrugged. Bedroom, couch or floor; Susan didn't care. She followed him to a clean bedroom with a queen sized bed, a soft comforter, a dresser with a mirror above it and a doorway leading to a bathroom. They kissed again and she tugged at his clothes. Travis got the message. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Not when I know what I want," she said. She pulled off his shirt and kissed his dark colored chest. He smelled and tasted the same as any man. She didn't care. She liked seeing his chocolate skin and his dark chocolate colored nipples. She nibbled on his nipples. He moaned. She bit him lightly and he moaned louder. She went to work on his jeans. He stopped her and took care of it himself. She slipped out of her clothes.

Travis felt the same as any man had ever felt. His skin was a different color and not a different texture. Still, Susan did what she could to appreciate the difference in skin tones. She watched her white hand as she stroked his cock. Travis was big, not the biggest she had ever had and not the smallest either. He wasn't of mythic size. She didn't care. She never expected him to be endowed as large as a porn star. She licked and kissed his prick. Travis seemed to appreciate it.

"Have you been with a white woman before?" she asked.

"A couple times."

"Do you like white women better than black women?"

"I like skinny women," he said, cupping her bare, narrow ass in his hands. "Color don't matter."

His sloppy English sent a thrill through her. It was the first time he had sounded "black" to her.

"I eat pussy," he said. She gave him a look. Why was that important? "I'm just saying. The myth is that black guys don't eat pussy. I do."

"Prove it," Susan said. She rolled on her back and waited until Travis crawled between her legs. This was better. She ran her fingers through the tight kink of his closely cropped hair. She thrilled at seeing his dark face pressed against the relative whiteness of thighs. She moaned. His technique wasn't bad. He found her clit and licked at it. She imagined his full lips surrounding her sex and came from the idea of what he was doing. "Fuck me," she begged.

"With my big black dick?"

"Please," she agreed, buying into her fantasy.

Travis positioned himself on top of her. He kissed her and his lips tasted like her pussy. After sucking on his full lips, she pulled away to look at him, to watch his dark skinned body rising and falling against hers. She felt the shiver of a secondary orgasm surge through her. She did was she could to give him a good ride. He didn't last exceptionally long. He sounded like any other man when he came.

"Mm, thanks," she mumbled when he fell against her, spent.

"Was it good?"

"I came," she assured him.

"Do you want to spend the night?"

Her silence gave him the answer.

"Damn, really? Hang out and we can do it again if you want."

"I'm good."

"For real?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Fine, bitch. Whatever. Yo crazy, you know that?"

Susan smiled. His slang made her want to stay, but she didn't. She used his bathroom and he followed pulled on his pants while she got dressed. "Thanks again," she said. This was always the awkward part.

"Yeah, whatever." Travis walked her to the door. "If you ever want another piece of dark chocolate, I'm down with that."

"Actually, I'm feeling like Chinese is next on my menu," she said and gave him one last kiss before leaving him behind. So little time and so many different men.