Talisman Ch. 8: Ivory

As intently as Gene was watching her, he caught the motion right away. "You were wearing that last night, too. Can I see it?"

She slid the chain over her head, wincing as it caught a few small hairs, and handed it to him. Cradling it carefully in his free hand, he turned it from one side to the other, fascinated. "This is cool! Where'd you find it?" As he spoke he handed it back to her and she drew it back down over her head.

"Garage sale, actually. It was weird. The old lady just looked at me and slid this out, almost like it was mine and I'd left it there or something. You remember reading about India and their religions in Mrs. Stanley's?" At his nod, she continued, "So I knew all about it-well, anyway, I knew who these guys carved on it were. Don't know what the hell it does, if anything. I just liked the way it looked on, plus, you know, it's ivory. Like me. And it makes me feel kind of sexy." She paused in astonishment. Where the hell did that come from? Have I ever felt sexy? Even as she thought it, Gene was laughing but not cruelly, so she joined in.

"Can't say I relate to that particular feeling," he said wryly.

"Why, you never done it?" Again she halted in confusion. Have I ever even talked about sex before? I know I've never talked about it playfully like this!

Gene hesitated, the smile getting a little more self-conscious. "Um, well, I've been kind of saving myself...for the first person who'll ask me."

Ivory burst into laughter, surprised and delighted. Reassured by the warmth in her eyes, he relaxed and his grip on her hand tightened. "So, how about you? Has that charm ever made you feel so sexy that you did something about it?" His eyes left no doubt of his meaning.

Her laughter caught in her throat. Sex and Gene. The thought was wonderful-and then suddenly terrifying in the memories.

Swing. Screams and sobs for mercy almost drowning out the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Swing. She could almost see, could catch glimpses of the people in the room, the man above, the woman beneath. Swing. The man was cursing now, yelling stupidfuckingwhorenigger. Swing. As a small hand pushed the door opened again, she saw the man turn towards her, but horrifyingly, appallingly, it was Gene and the woman beneath him was herself. He smiled and said, "It's your fault, Ivory." She screamed.

The restaurant fell silent, all heads swiveling curiously in her direction. Trembling, she stood, seeing nothing around her. "Sorry, Gene...thanks for the drink..." She pushed her way through the crowd and ran out the door into the darkness. In the confusion that followed, Gene, rushing to his feet in pursuit, slipped on spilled soda and crashed onto the floor amidst laughter. As he dropped his head miserably, he missed the sight of one man who did manage to get through the mob and out the door.

Gasping for air, Ivory stopped running, hands on her knees as she tried to regroup. Stupid stupid stupid! You knew this would happen, but you had to pretend you weren't a fucked up little whore, because it was fun. Was that fun? Knowing what it would be like? He'd beat you too, don't forget it, because you deserve it. You deserve it. You- Suddenly she was aware of another presence behind her. The alley was narrow and dark. Fear shot through her like lightning and she clutched at her pendant.

Laughter rang out, low and scornful, and suddenly she was almost relieved. Here was the perfect outlet, the perfect punishment. Strutting into the dim light the streetlamp cast on this alley, Rafe said, "Got a problem, nigger? Got something fucking with your mind?" He came closer and she said nothing, somehow knowing that her submission was the ultimate in arousal for him, knowing that he wanted to conquer her. Knowing that she needed him to conquer her.

Approaching, he reached a hand up to her face-and she could tell how he hated being so much shorter than her, how it fueled his angry cruel fire-and stroked her cheek. And then he sharply slapped her. Crying out, she fell to her knees. He brutally wrenched her head backwards and up to face him. "Think to make it even, I'll fuck with your body, too."

She whimpered and closed her eyes, unconsciously rocking her groin against her foot. The next slap caught her off-guard as well. This time he caught her by her blouse before she fell again. "I like your shirt," he smirked, and ripped the bright fabric all the way down the middle. Staring greedily at her breasts yet not seeing the talisman between them, Rafe reached out and twisted both her nipples hard, watching the agony break across her face, the pleas forming on her mouth. He was so hard he thought he'd rip a hole in his pants. He greedily drank in her pain, her humiliation, her acceptance, until his need was unbearable. Growling insanely, he unzipped what clothes he could, tore the rest, and was inside her in seconds.

God, she's so wet. . He felt her hymen break, heard her yelp in pain, and laughed cruelly. Then all he could think of was fucking this tight cunt as fast as possible. Rafe put his hand on her throat, holding her down as his cock pounded into her viciously. She was sobbing and twisting beneath him, arms flailing at his back. It took him a moment to realize that the moans coming from her were "more, more, please don't stop, please fuck me harder goddammit, yes, just like that, you fucking white bastard." Furious, he renewed his assault, thrusting his cock into her as hard as he could, trying to punish her with each stroke. His grip on her neck tightened.

Ivory was delirious in the most exquisite agony of her life. Every stroke stretched and tortured her, and sent her flying. She choked for air, but every bit of it she got was expelled as a scream or a whimper. Tears of ecstasy streamed down her cheeks. All she could feel was the cock, the white cock penetrating her, impaling her over and over again, driving deeply into her greedy cunt. Images of violence flashed across her mind. She fed off of them. She wanted it all, all the pain and the degradation, and she was getting it all. She wanted to die. She felt so alive.

Without missing a stroke, Rafe grabbed her legs and pulled them over his shoulders, plunging as deeply as possible into her. He stared hungrily at the torture on her face. Yes, fuck the bitch, fuck her hard, just like she needs, like she deserves. The physical gratification, incredible as it was, was secondary to the satisfaction of punishing this nigger for every insult, every blow to his pride, every minute of respect he'd had to give them. Snarling, he grabbed her shoulders with both hands and started pistoning his cock in and out quickly, roughly. So caught up in his own pleasure was he, he barely noticed her writhing beneath him, or the increased pitch and intensity of her moans. He did notice, however, when she stiffened and shrieked, "Daddy!"

As if by magic, his desire was gone. His erection withered pathetically mid-thrust and fell out, and he stumbled to his feet, eyes wide and panicked. "I ain't your fucking daddy, bitch! What the fuck is your problem?" Not even bothering to zip up his pants, he stumbled off into the night.

What the fuck IS your problem? Trembling, Ivory curled up into a ball inside the ruins of her blouse, shock broad across her face. The night, the memories, everything she'd tried to drown in brutal fucking-it all came back in a flood. Perhaps she was weakened from the sex or the orgasm; perhaps she was just tired of running. But this time, she let all the memories come.

Swing. It was as if Ivory were watching the scene from a few feet away. She saw the smaller her, no more than six, sitting outside her parents' door, pushing it lightly so it swung open and shut. Swing. Child-Ivory cringed but was unable to look away as her stepfather backhanded her mother. Swing. As the door swung closed, the screams and curses described the scene inside just as vividly as the sight. Swing. More blows, more hatred. Child-Ivory absorbed it all. Why? Why did he do that? For once, Ivory thought about it. He was like this when they were dating, too. He's always been like this. It wasn't just us-it wasn't just me. It wasn't me. His fault, not mine. The knowledge came sudden and strong with truth. She wept with the release of it. Not my fault.

But that wasn't all. There was something deeper, something more precious and hidden.

The tall white man. The man in the photo. My-my daddy. Ivory let out a sob and buried her head in her knees. Why'd he leave us? Why'd he leave my mama? I just wanted a daddy, that's all. I wouldn't have been a bad daughter. I wouldn't have disappointed him. Why'd he go?

She didn't realize she'd spoken that last aloud until a haggard voice replied, "He looked like he had other things on his mind."

Gasping in shock, she raised her head from her knees, peering outside the dim light until Gene stepped into it. His face was drawn and pained and he took cautious steps to her, unsure of how much company she wanted right now. However, when he reached her side and saw how much effort it was taking her to not break down, he instantly dropped to his knees and took her in his arms. Her face crumbled and she began to cry, clinging desperately to him. He cradled her until her sobs had subsided. She sniffled and tried to look away, but he held her chin firmly in his hands, forcing her to look in his eyes. She saw what he wanted her to: love, never condemnation. For once she believed it.

Hesitantly, she began to speak. "You probably heard I'm half-white. My daddy...he and Mama were gonna get married. But she got pregnant first, and when he heard that he took off. I never knew why. Why someone could love a woman but not her child. I guess I kind of took it personal. Thought he couldn't love a half-black baby. And I seen too much of black people hating. My-my step-dad, Rick. He beats on Mama. I thought I had to be responsible for that, too. Like, she'd still be with my Daddy if it hadn't been for me and she wouldn't keep getting hit."

He stroked her forehead and hair softly, giving her nothing but acceptance. "What do you think now?"

She paused, wiping her nose, before giving a small shrug. "I think some people were just born bad. That what they do is their fault."

"You think you're one of those people?"

A moment of consideration; she shook her head. "No. I think I've done some pretty stupid things but Daddy leaving wasn't my fault. He was just one of those men that can't stick around. Rick beating on my Mama wasn't my fault either and never has been. She lets him do it and she doesn't have to. Rafe-" She paused fearfully, but he smiled at her, reassuring, albeit a little uncomfortable.

"I saw most of it. You, um, sounded like you didn't want anyone to step in, so I just stayed behind those crates to make sure he didn't really hurt you. It's-it's okay. You did what you felt you wanted to."

"'What I needed to,' was how I thought of it. I needed to atone. That was my fault. I guess...I wanted to prove to a white man that I'm something. 'Hey Daddy, look at me now,' or some shit like that." She laughed a little hysterically. "Didn't go about that the right way, I guess." Her laughter died down as she looked into Gene's face. "Oh, Gene, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't've done that. You didn't deserve to be hurt like that."

His hands tensed momentarily. "You kidding? Baby, the first thing I thought of was your safety. I had no idea at first if you wanted this or not-you didn't exactly leave the restaurant in mental stability, you know. I'm just glad you're not hurt or...or pregnant. From what I saw, that was a pretty classic case of coitus interruptus." They laughed at that.

Sobering, she focused her eyes on his, brow furrowed quizzically. "You are a very good man, Gene Willis. I don't really know how to take that."

Lowering his eyes shyly, Gene caught a flash of lamplight on her pendant, and heard his own voice saying, "Take it like this." He bent down and kissed her. It healed, not chaste but tender; it lingered, not bland but unhurried. They kissed in the soft shadows, foreheads touching, hands clasped. In the darkness, there was no color. In the darkness, there was only a man and a woman kissing.

* * * * *

"Took you long enough to get down here, girl! Gonna make us all late for church! And where the hell were you last night? Your mama and me came home two hours after we left and you weren't here. You out convincing some white boy to give you a worthless little half-nigger baby too? Where you think you're going? You owe me some answers, girl!"

Ivory paused at the door, turned, and looked Rick straight in the face. "I owe you nothing, least of all my life. Which, by the way, is worth a hell of a lot more than yours will ever be. I'm leaving. If Mama has any sense you haven't beaten out of her, she'll do the same." She stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her. Enraged yells echoed inside the house; she ignored them without a thought.

Gene answered the door. Surprise turned to joy instantly. "Hey! C'mon in. What's up?"

Turning to face him as he shut the door, she said, "I've left them. Will you come with me?"

Silence. They had talked about this last night; they knew their prospects remained the same. Both had received scholarships and had enough money from jobs stored away to get a small place and still attend college. The only problem was Gene's family, who he loved and didn't want to abandon.

He broke the stillness with a smile and a gesture to continue into the house. "Well, my parents aren't home right now. They should be back from church in about an hour and a half. I didn't get to say much to them last night but, um, they want to get to know you."

Ivory rolled her eyes, walking past him into their living room. "You must've said something pretty important, then."

His voice was completely serious. "I told them I found the girl I'm going to marry."

Turning incredulously to face him, Ivory was speechless. A second passed and she hurtled into Gene's arms, embracing him tightly. They kissed again, although the night before they'd thought, giggling, that surely they'd used up the world's supply of kisses. This kiss, like last night's kisses, started off light, exploring. They learned again the taste of love, and found it sweet. Each kiss, smiling lips and welcoming tongue, grew progressively deeper and more urgent, until the need they'd tacitly subdued last night finally emerged. Ivory pulled away first, gasping for air, face flushed and bright. "Gene..." His finger came up to rest on her lips, silencing.

"Ivory, may I make love with you?" His eyes were dark with passion, his voice steady beyond his years.

Her answer came as a radiant smile. Taking his hand, she led them both to his bedroom. As they walked, she reached for her pendant out of habit, but then remembered she'd left it on her bedside table, in a house she'd never return to. Uncertainty passed through her, but then Gene stopped and faced her and nothing else mattered.

Solemnly, he undid her scarf, letting the smooth fabric brush her cheek as he drew it away from her head. She shut her eyes tightly when he pulled her blouse over her head and followed its trip to the floor with her bra. A moment of self-consciousness was all he allowed her before turning her face back up to his. Pure desire she read there, and she let him see the same in her.

Never breaking eye contact, Gene knelt before her, unzipped her jeans, and slid them along with her panties down her legs. He trailed every inch of descent with a kiss until eventually the clothes were on the ground and he was kissing her feet softly, lovingly. Her breath caught in her throat and a tear fell on his upturned face. She reached down and ran her fingers through his tight curls, holding his head lovingly, and then drew him back up to her.

Standing, Gene cupped her face in his hands. "You'd better get used to being worshiped, Ivory, because I intend to do it the rest of my life."

In reply, Ivory smiled through her tears, reached her arms around his neck, and kissed him. This is what I deserve.