tagInterracial LoveLove Knows No Color Pt. 02

Love Knows No Color Pt. 02


I woke up in the morning, naked, sunlight shining in my eyes, to the smell of bacon and eggs and the beautiful sound of a woman singing. Somewhere a stereo was playing Michel'le, and the woman was singing along. "There's something you should know. There's something in my heart, something in my heart, it's got me hooked on you..."

I looked around the room, from the king bed in which I lay, to the candles around the room. Only the one on the night stand was still flickering. On the wall at the foot of the bed was a low dresser, topped with a wide mirror. On the dresser sat various bottles of lotions and fragrances, and a couple of jars of hair grease. There were paintings on the walls, with an African theme. Women in native dress, with headdresses. One in particular caught my eye. She was sitting on what looked like a wicker chair with a throne like back, hair in an afro, naked with her legs folded under her. She looked familiar somehow... I looked down at the floor for my clothes, and saw a pair of red heels at the foot of the night stand.

That's when I remembered. Shavonda! Did I really spend the night with her? The memories came flooding back. The rainstorm, the candles, those incredible eyes watching me as she devoured my body...

I wearily eased out of bed and ambled into the bathroom. I found some mouthwash and took a swig. I hoped Shavonda wouldn't mind. I didn't want to offend her with morning breath.

She was now singing Morcheeba: "as you well know, you better take care. Treat me with respect because love is rare..."

I strolled on out into the kitchen, following the delicious smells. I was getting hungry. There she stood, at the stove, in nothing but a t shirt just long enough to cover her ass, hips swaying seductively to the music as she cooked. Singing Macy Gray this time, "After what we did the other night, I wanna be with you for all my life. And I'm so glad you're a freak like me..."

She was unaware of my presence as I walked up behind her, saying, "I'm so glad too." She whirled around and put her arms around my neck and kissed me.

"Good morning, baby," she said, smiling. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

I grabbed her ass, lifting the hem of the shirt in the process, feeling her soft bare skin, and pulled her to me. We kissed again, lips open and tongues darting.

She broke the kiss and turned back to the stove as I grabbed her hips and ground my pelvis into her booty. "Boy, you better stop that or I'll burn your breakfast. The eggs and bacon were done and sitting on a plate, and she had pancakes frying in a skillet.

Soon she was done with the cooking, and she set two plates at the kitchen table where I had taken a seat. "What do you want to drink?" she asked. "I have coffee, Dr. Pepper, milk, orange juice, and Kool Aid."

"Kool Aid's fine," I replied. She pulled a pitcher from the refrigerator and poured two glasses, handing me one.

"This may be a little stronger than what you've used to," she said. I took a sip. It was sweet, really sweet. I could imagine the spoon standing on its own as she stirred it when she made it, there was that much sugar in it. But it was good.

"Ghetto Kool Aid," she laughed as she watched my facial expression. "We like it sweet."

Shavonda sat down, breasts jiggling sexily under her shirt. She noticed me staring and laughed, "If you're going to stare at my tits, boy, then I better take this off."

She lifted the shirt over her head. I was enjoying the dark chocolate tone of her skin. We'd made love in candlelight, and this was the first I had seen her naked in daylight. I was smitten. She sat there, eating her breakfast, watching me with those beautiful brown eyes.

"Boy, you better eat."

I picked up a forkful of scrambled eggs, they were delicious. In fact, everything about that breakfast was delicious.

"Did you enjoy last night?" she purred, "Because I sure did."

"You were wonderful. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I can't believe you swallowed me." I answered.

"I wanted to. I needed to taste your nut. Besides you'd last longer on the second nut. I didn't want you to come too fast inside me."

I replied, "Von, I held back as much as I could."

"I know," she replied. "You have some great self-control, to be able to ride the edge like that."

"You noticed that?" I was incredulous. She was that in tune with my reactions the first time?

"Yes. And I appreciate the tenderness you showed last night. And I'm glad you stayed over. I know you have a history of kicking people out of your bed." Shavonda sighed. "But you didn't leave me."

Breakfast done, she cleared the plates and put them in the sink. She came back to the table, pulled her chair over to mine, and sat down facing me. She took my hands in hers and placed them on her lap, looking right into my eyes as she asked, "So where do we go from here?"

"We enjoy what we have," I replied.

"Jason, I am a strong black woman. Everything I have I worked for. I don't need a man to live a full life. But I want one. And you are the man I want. Even if it means I am your booty call, the one you see in the middle of the night when you're lonely. If that's what I can have that's what I will take. You wouldn't be the first. But I want more."

"I would never do that to you, Von. You are my friend. We were friends long before we became lovers. And I couldn't do that to a friend. If we pursue this, and I want to as much as I think you do, we will go face the world, hand in hand, proudly. I will not keep you under wraps. If you are my queen you will be my pride and joy. I will never be ashamed to be seen with you. Believe that."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she whispered.

I felt my heart break just a little. I never wanted to see my queen cry.

Regaining her composure, she said, "You do realize this won't be easy. A lot of people aren't going to like us. They're going to harass us. They will try to break us apart. You may lose friends and family because of me."

"If they were truly my friends, they'd want to see me happy. Anybody who has a problem with you and me together, was never truly a friend in the first place," I said with conviction.

My life was about to change. I knew it, she knew it. But she had experienced it before. I hadn't. She had to live with prejudice every day. I could walk away and go back to my old life and nobody would be the wiser. Except that I couldn't. Shavonda had a hold on me already, a hold that I couldn't, and didn't want to, break.

She leaned in and kissed me, passionately. Holding the back of my head so I couldn't escape. Playing in my hair with the other hand.

"Let's set some ground rules," she said. "First and foremost, don't EVER call me or my family out of our race. No matter how mad you get just don't do it. If you ever call me nigger, tar baby, spade or coon it will permanently damage our relationship. I don't care if you call me your chocolate morsel, Hershey kiss, or other terms of endearment. I know that's part of our attraction to each other. In return, I promise never to call you cracker or honky. I do reserve the right to call you white boy or white bread."

"Fair enough," I said. "That won't be hard for me." She didn't know it, but I tend to be cool in arguments, and try to avoid name calling. I prefer to walk away and cool down rather than say something hurtful I don't really mean.

"I want you to always come inside me. I don't like facials, especially when I've had my hair done. And I would rather not have come all over my tits and ass. I don't care if it leaks out of me and runs down my leg, as long as it was inside me."

"I can deal with that."

"Besides," she said, as a shadow crossed her face, "I can't have a baby so you don't have to worry about that. It's a long story. I'll tell you about it some time."

I nodded. I didn't like the sadness I saw in her eyes when she talked about having babies. I'd noticed it last night, and there it was again.

"I have some errands to run today," she said, "so we can't start anything now. I have a spare toothbrush you can use, and you are welcome to use my deodorant as well."

"What? And smell like a girl?" I exclaimed in mock indignation.

"You ate the hell outa that pussy. Twice. And you worried about smelling like a girl? Boy, go use that deodorant!" She laughed, then added, "And while you're at it do something about that hair." I realized that during the night somehow I had lost the pony tail holder, and that my unruly locks probably resembled Einstein more than a little.

"Better yet, I have some hair bands. Let me brush it out for you. I'd love to play in that hair. When was the last time you had somebody brush your hair for you?" Nobody had been interested in my hair before. Not like that.

We washed each other up. The smoldering fire almost ignited again but we held it in check. I watched her dress, shorts, sandals and a V-neck t shirt. Evidently she loved showing cleavage. I loved her showing it. After putting on my clothes, retrieved from the living room floor where they lay strewn about from last night, I applied her Secret to my underarms.

"You smell pretty," she laughed. "So do you," I replied.

I sat in one of the kitchen chairs while she brushed out my long hair, and banded it back into a tail. "One of these days I'ma have to braid this sucker. Would you like that?"

She was obviously enjoying herself.

"I love your hair too," I said.

She laughed, "This is what it looks like when I don't straighten it. You'd be surprised how long it actually is when it's not all kinked up."

"First we have to stop by the store," she continued. "You'll get to meet my cousin and aunt; they hold it down on weekends for me. Then we can swing by your place and get you a change of clothes. You're coming back here tonight for round two. If you want, we can get your car on the way."

We left in her car, and soon arrived at her store. As we walked in, a small, chubby girl in her early twenties greeted us. She was light skinned with a caramel complexion.

"Hi, Von. Who you got with you?"

"Tamika, this is Jason. He's a friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Jason." Tamika gave me a fist bump and turned to the back of the store and yelled, "Velma! Von's here!"

An older lady, a couple of shades lighter than Von, hair in locks, came out of the bead covered doorway to the back of the store, saying, "Von, what you doing here? Take some time off. We got this." She stopped when she saw me. "Ooh, Von's got herself a white boy! And he fine as hell!" She sniffed the air. "Hey Von, why he smell like Secret? Did you..." Velma looked at me, then Von, then back at me. I could feel myself turning red. Von grinned sheepishly.

"Velma, this is Jason. You're going to be seeing a lot more of him around here."

"Ooh she did! She turned that boy out!" Velma turned to me. "Welcome to the family. Gimme a hug."

She embraced me in a friendly hug. It was official. I was accepted at the store. I looked around, marveling at the various items on display. I instantly liked this place. Liked the ambience. Liked the aroma of incense burning, the jewelry case filled with handmade bracelets, pendants and necklaces, the photos and paintings hung on the wall. I noticed a rack of cds in the corner, and went over to browse the music selections.

"If you see anything you like, just take it. My present," Von said. "Then come in the back." I picked out an Enigma cd, then followed Von into the back room. "This is where we make a lot of the jewelry," she said, pointing out trays full of beads and semi-precious stones. "We can make scented candles over here," she pointed at the candle molds and a small machine used to melt the candle wax


I hadn't noticed Von had brought in the envelope of photos I'd shown her last night. She handed them to Velma, who'd followed me back and was seated at a small drawing table. "Velma, tell me what you think of these."

Velma pulled the photos out and gazed at each one. "These are beautiful," she said, "Who took them?"

"Jason did. I think they would fit in well with the other stuff we sell, maybe attract a few more people into the store."

Velma looked at me. "Jason," she said, "Would you mind if we used these? We'll pay you a percentage on every one we sell."

"Of course not. I have many more as well. Let me know and I'll bring the SD cards by."

I was flattered they liked my photos. They were something I had done for enjoyment, never dreaming anybody would like to buy copies.

We left the store, and I directed her to my house. As we got out of the car, I heard a voice call from across the street.

"Hi, Jason. Who's your lady friend?"

It was Mrs. Zucchero, the neighborhood busybody. She's harmless but she keeps an eye on things. I guess when you get to be in your 70s, you need something to do. She was sitting with her husband Guido, a retired pizza shop owner. His sons had taken over the business, and I ordered pizza from them often. It was great pizza, even in a city full of great pizza shops. We walked over to say hi, and I introduced Shavonda.

"Shavonda, where have I heard that name?" Mrs. Z said to herself.

"Isn't there a store over in Shadyside called Shavonda's Creations?" Guido asked.

"That's right," said his wife. She turned to me. "Jason, you remember that little squaw statue we have, the one with the wolf at her side? That's where we got that."

"I am the owner of that store." Shavonda beamed proudly. "Pleased to meet you."

After some small talk, we walked back across the street and up the steps to my porch. Turning the key, I said," Welcome to my humble abode. It ain't much but it's all mine."

Shavonda stepped inside, checking out the rack of cds that dominated one wall of the living room.

"I'll be right back." I said bounding up the stairs. I quickly grabbed a clean set of clothes, plus a pair of work pants, one of my uniform shirt, my Nikon and tripod, and stuffed them in my duffel bag. I also grabbed my work boots, then came back downstairs. Shavonda had moved on to my bookshelf, and was admiring my collection.

"Would you like to see my work of art," I asked. She nodded and I led her by the hand to the cellar. When I turned the lights on, she gasped. There it was, my model railroad in all its glory. I have been working on it, with help from a couple of friends, since I bought this house. It featured trains winding through mountains, with a foot-high bridge over a canyon as the centerpiece. The trains work their way from the train yard at the bottom of the canyon, to the bridge, then descend back to the lower level.

"Jason that's beautiful," she exclaimed in awe. "Does it run?"

"Yes, but not in the way you'd think. We run this one like a real railroad. We don't just let the trains run in circles. They actually work moving freight from place to place."

We stayed down there for a while and I showed her how things worked. I even let her take a short train over the mountain.

We were getting hungry, and Von wanted to get back to her place, so we locked up, waved bye to the Zuccheros, and got in the Cruze. We stopped for a Zucchero Brothers pizza on the way back, and happily sat on Von's couch, eating pizza, drinking rum and Dr. Pepper, and watching a movie. It felt good to have her snuggling under my arm. I let my free hand roam Von's body as she undid my belt and fished out my manhood. We made out for a while, kissing and nibbling on each other's lips, necks and earlobes. Hmmm, found another of her spots, right where her neck and shoulders meet.

She was stroking me up and down, and I was getting rock hard all over again. I looked into her eyes and saw the same smoldering look from the night before. I grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. She let go of my penis just long enough to get her arm out of the sleeve then went back to stroking me. I gazed upon her black bra, barely containing those beautiful titties, then up into her eyes again. Those eyes, they just draw you in...

I reached around her back, unsnapped her bra, then lifted the cups free. Her beautiful chocolate tits jiggled free, nipples puckered. I ran my thumbs over each one, delighting in their soft, rubbery texture. Shavonda moaned softly, still stroking my meat. I was leaning in to take one of the titties in my mouth when there was a loud knock at the door.

"Von! Open up Von! I know you're in there," yelled a loud female voice. Shavonda jumped up quickly and put her shirt back on. I put my dick back in my pants and zipped back up. Shavonda quickly stuffed her bra between the couch cushions. "Shavonda Jenkins you open up right now!"

"Oh, shit, it's my ma!" she exclaimed, rushing to the door.

"Your Aunt Velma tells me you got some white boy up in here!" The woman who steeped through the door looked just like Shavonda, but with glasses, a few extra pounds and 20 years older. She stopped when she saw me, speechless.

"Hi, I'm Jason," I grinned sheepishly, turning red.

The lady looked at me, then at my duffel bag, back at me, then at Shavonda. My dick was still building a tent in my pants, and Shavonda's nipples were poking through the t shirt. It was obvious what we'd been doing. Her mom's gaze finally settled on the couch cushion next to me. The strap of Shavonda's bra was poking up from between the cushions. She strode with purpose to the couch, and pulled the bra free, glaring at me icily.

"I don't suppose this is yours," she said to me, dripping sarcasm.

"Ma, I'm 30 years old. I can handle myself," Shavonda protested.

"Boy, you better not hurt her. I swear to God you better not hurt her. She's been through too much." Mom's tone was threatening. She glared at Shavonda. "Girl, what were you thinking?"

Shavonda said, "Jason is a good friend. He is good to me. He is a good man. Mama please let him be. Don't scare him off. Give him a chance."

A thought came into my head. Maybe I could defuse the situation.

"Ma'am, could you do me a favor?" I pleaded.

Mom turned at me with her finger in the air like she was going to cuss me out, but she was speechless. I had broken her train of thought. After a long pause she snapped, "What?"

"Von and I don't have any pictures together. We can't find anybody I trust enough with my camera. Would you take a few of us on the porch?" I rose and grabbed my Nikon from the duffel bag.

"Well, OK." She sounded a little calmer. I handed her the camera and showed her how to work it. We all walked to the porch, where Shavonda and I struck various poses as her mom snapped away.

"Thank you," I said, taking the camera and showing her the photos she'd just taken. "If you'd like copies of these just let Von or me know."

Shavonda asked, "Ma do you want something to drink?"

"Kool Aid if you have it" Mom was calm now. She turned to me as Shavonda quickly went to get us all drinks. "I'm Althea," she said. "Sorry to meet you like this."

Shavonda returned with a tray and 3 glasses. We all sat around a small round table on the porch, sipping Kool Aid.

Althea looked at me and asked, "You from the South?"

"West Virginia," I answered.

"I Knew it!" she said. "What are your intentions toward my daughter?"

"I would like to take care of her, to be her strength. I never want to bring her shame or disrespect."

"Good answer" I could sense her attitude softening as I tried to put her at ease.

We talked for a long time on the porch, watching the sun set through the trees. Over Shavonda's protests, Althea told me about Shavonda's dark past, about the baby she was never destined to have, how when she was pregnant, her boyfriend at the time turned abusive. One day, in a fit of rage he had punched Shavonda repeatedly in the stomach. She was 5 months pregnant at the time.

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