Love Knows No Color Pt. 10


"Yes, your honor. I'd proposed that evening. We still had the cake on the back seat." I explained. Shavonda showed the magistrate her ring.

"Officer, did you see a cake in the backseat?" The magistrate looked displeased.

"Well, yes there was a cake...." Shoemacher stammered. The magistrate dismissed him with a wave of the hand and turned back to us.

"Can you prove it?" The magistrate looked sympathetic to us now. Ziggy stepped forward from the back wall and handed me his cell phone. He had pulled up the photo of me on my knees slipping the ring on Shavonda's finger. Shavonda had meanwhile reached in her oversized purse and pulled out a box. As the magistrate looked at the cell phone photo, she opened the box and pulled out one of our wedding invitations. She handed it to the magistrate. He read it and handed it to Shoemacher.

"Officer, do you mean to tell me that you pulled this woman from her fiancé's car, while parked on HIS property, and ran her in for prostitution? Do you have a corroborating arrest report?" The magistrate asked acidly.

"Well, no," Shoemacher replied. "She was released without being charged. We had no evidence."

"No evidence? Seriously? You harassed this couple despite them showing you an engagement cake, with no evidence?" The magistrate was openly hostile now. "I suppose you can at least prove he ran the stop signs." Shoemacher stood silent.

"About those stop signs, your honor." I started, laying out my photos on the bench. "These are the intersections listed on the ticket. As you can see there are no stop signs there. Why would there be? These are residential streets crossing an alley."

"I've heard enough!" the magistrate growled. "Case dismissed. Officer, if I ever hear another case like this from you, I am going to have you investigated. This is the laziest excuse for police work I've ever seen." He turned to us. "Mr. Waite, Ms. Jenkins, the court offers our sincere apologies for the mistreatment you have endured. I congratulate you on your engagement, and wish you a long happy life together."

We left the courtroom with Ziggy. "Look who I ran into here," Shavonda smiled.

"Thanks man," I said shaking Ziggy's hand. "I still need a copy of that photo. You were a lifesaver in there."

"No problem, you'd do the same for me," he said.

We all had pizza for lunch at Villa Reale, one of my favorite downtown spots. Shavonda looked happy. She'd finally, hopefully, squashed the "prostitution" event. Ziggy filled me in some more on the incidents from that night, in a low voice so others couldn't hear us.

"Shoemacher has evidently pulled the same thing he did with Von, over in Zone 5. There were a couple of allegations he tried to reduce charges on known prostitutes in Garfield. They made him transfer over here to save his job. Off the record, there is an undercover officer posing as a prostitute in our zone, attempting to set him up. She looks a lot like you, Von. Evidently he has a thing for black women."

Shavonda shook her head. "Didn't he ever try being nice to one of us? That's how Jason got me. Respect will get you everything."

"Evidently, he isn't smart enough to realize that," I said sadly.

"Wait, there's more," Ziggy explained. "We were able to investigate the phone calls reporting a woman resembling Shavonda in that alley. There were 17 of them in all, from December 26 to Valentine's Day. They all came from the same pay phone, the one at the BP station. Voice prints match on all of them. And the store surveillance video shows Rose at the phone on Valentine's Day, at the same time as recorded on the 9-1-1 call. We're going to charge her with 17 counts of making false statements to police, plus another 17 counts of harassment against you, Von."

Soon, Ziggy had to go. He had to report back to court to testify in another case. Shavonda kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. Not many would have done what you did to defend me. As you saw before, I have never had to sleep with anybody to get where I am. For somebody to suggest otherwise is deeply insulting and humiliating. By the way, Rose's family court case blew up in her face. We're starting to get some relief now."

Shavonda and I walked back to the parking garage hand in hand. We paid the ransom and retrieved the Cruze.

We swung by the Carson Street store and said hi to Tamika and Ebony. They were training the new girl we'd hired, Beth, who was white. Other than me, she was the only white employee we had. Beth had come in one day and applied. She was in the Art program at Pitt, and was looking for something that would work around her classes. She was hired with the intention of her working the weekends and one or two days during the week. Her presence would free up one of the other employees to drive the company van between stores.

Business was doing well, after a post-holiday slump in early January. We'd started putting photos of individual pieces on the company website, and customers could order them for pickup at either location. Thus, the need for a driver to shuttle stock between the two stores. The driver wasn't needed full time, but having one would mean neither store was shorthanded while the van was on the road.

We'd both done our income taxes early this year. Going over the books with the accountant was eye opening. Shavonda was a shrewd businesswoman. She'd incorporated each store separately. The original was Shavonda's Creations, LLC; and the other store was Shavonda's Carson Street, LLC. Even the van was under a separate corporation, Shavonda's Transportation, LLC. She'd done this so that the failure of one part wouldn't bring down her whole empire.

Taxes were held in an escrow account for each corporation, and paid out according to the returns filed. Excess was generally left in the accounts as a cushion. But this year, having built up in the original LLC for years, there was about $20K that we could tap for the wedding. I'd also donated my income tax refund to the worthy cause, and now, having beaten the tickets, there was about a $400 deposit I'd had to pay when I requested a hearing that had been refunded to me when I'd won. Financing the big day wasn't going to be a problem.

We'd arranged for the use of the church for the ceremony itself. The reception would be held nearby in Shavonda's backyard. With two acres of land, she had a backyard big enough to hold the expected crowd. Our friends Darren and Minnie offered to deejay the wedding. We could do karaoke if we wanted as well. The only problem with using Shavonda's house for the reception was its modest size. If it rained there was simply no room for over a hundred people. We would end up purchasing several canopies for the backyard, and renting the necessary chairs and tables to give the guests somewhere to sit.

Rose had asked for the kids for Easter. I denied her. For the first time, I had no restrictions on taking them across the state line, and they were going to visit the grand parents who never got to see them. Rose was mad and said, "So you're going to let that bitch spend Easter with my kids." I noticed she didn't use the word nigger this time.

"This isn't about her. All these years, you've denied me taking them down south to visit my parents. Now you have no say so, think it's time they see where their daddy grew up. I'm willing to grant you other holidays, but this one's mine." I was adamant about this. My parents had waited so long to see them. The last time they'd seen the kids was when they travelled to Pittsburgh for Ethan's birth. "Rose, when are you going to realize this isn't about how YOU feel. Your feelings are why you're in so much trouble now. Sacrifice something for the sake of the kids. They don't deserve to be caught in the middle of all this. And they wouldn't be, if you hadn't shown your ass."

The nice thing about having Rose take the kids every other weekend was that it gave us some time alone as a couple without having to find a babysitter. Not that Althea or Tamika ever minded watching the kids while we had some "us" time. The downside was that the kids, Ethan especially, tended to act up after they'd been with Rose for the weekend.

So, after Rose picked up the kids the weekend before Easter, we found out where Darren and Minnie were deejaying, and headed off for a karaoke night. Shavonda hadn't sang in public in a while. She was far too busy to join the church choir, which she clearly would have loved to do if she had more time.

Shavonda wore her usual winter outfit of tight jeans and sleeveless v-neck shirt. On this night, she wore black jeans, and her shirt was a red leopard print. Since we were going out, she wore a pair of red heels. She'd also put on makeup, and even curled the ends of her straight hair under for a different look. She even put the red clip on rose in her hair, just because she felt like it. As usual, she looked stunning. I wore black dress pants, and a red button down shirt with a black tie. My wardrobe, under Shavonda's influence, had undergone quite an upgrade. Before Shavonda, I'd have probably worn jeans and a flannel shirt to the bar. I used to joke about plaid being my favorite color.

We'd taken the time to book a room at the motel across the street from the karaoke, just so I wouldn't have to drive afterwards. We were free to get sloshed if we wanted.

We made our entrance into the bar, almost unnoticed. Minnie was the first to see us, and she came up to us and gave us a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "So glad you could make it," she said. "We missed you two. God, you two look good." She gushed over us. Darren was behind the dj table cueing up a playlist of songs that had been requested. A drunk in a cowboy hat had the mike and was butchering "Freebird."

We took a table near the dj so we could talk to Darren and Minnie, who alternated behind the dj table while the other one hung out with us. We ordered some cheesesteaks, a basket of fries, and a cold pitcher of Yuengling, and quickly got caught up on things. The deejay business was booming for them. I was glad. They deserved it. Shavonda looked at the songbooks and quickly picked out several songs to sing. As usual, I passed up the chance to make a fool of myself. I know I can't sing. Shavonda has enough voice for both of us.

The food, when it came, was excellent. The fries were hand cut, always a huge plus in my book. We ate while we waited for Shavonda's turn on the mike.

When her turn came up, Darren introduced Shavonda as "a dear friend with a good set of pipes." She quickly got up and took the mike. Her first song was Jill Scott's My Love. Shavonda sang it in a sultry manner, her movements adding to the sheer sensuality of the lyrics. The bar quieted as the patrons watched, entranced as she put on her show. She was singing just for me, oblivious to everybody else in the room. The air was electric.

After the song was over, Shavonda grabbed my hand, pulling me out of my seat. "Thank you," she said into the mike as the patrons applauded. "I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Jason. He's the inspiration for my performance." Embarrassed, I took a bow before kissing her on the lips. She handed the mike back to Minnie and we sat down.

Soon it was Shavonda's turn again. This time she did "Take Me to the River," a song I'd first heard her perform at my parents' place, with my cousins the backing band. Her version here was almost as soulful and sensual as her Jill Scott. I was proud of her, and I remember thinking, this lady should be recorded for posterity.

As she took her seat, an older drunken man in his mid fourties came over. Staring at Shavonda, he slurred, "You ain't supposed to be here. We don't like your type here."

I immediately arose. "What type would that be? I really need to know."

"Roger, sit down!" A woman, evidently his lady, was trying to get him to back off. I can't fight worth a damn, and I hoped she succeeded in intervening. But he was challenging my queen, making her uncomfortable and I wasn't going to stand for it. I was shaking in my boots but I wasn't going to let him see that.

Fortunately, Darren saw what was happening and intervened. "Roger, if you want to harass this lady, you're going to have to go through both of us," he said, flanking me. The bartender rushed over along with the bouncer, and together they escorted Roger to the door. Darren grabbed the mike from the lady who'd been singing, who'd stopped in the middle of her song when it looked like there was going to be a fight. "Is there anybody else here tonight who feels Shavonda shouldn't be here singing for us tonight?" he asked.

"Let her sing again," somebody yelled from the back of the room. The crowd murmured their approval. Darren handed the mike back to the lady whose song had been interrupted. "Start her song over," he instructed Minnie.

Soon, it was Shavonda's turn at the mike again. "I'd like to dedicate this next song to the man of my dreams." She held out her hand to the crowd showing her engagement ring. "This man asked me to marry him, y'all." The crowd clapped as she wandered over to where I was sitting, singing Macy Gray's Freak Like Me.

"Baby when you have the time, I wanna tell you what is on my mind. I gotta get it off cause it's so heavy. 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 pulled me from my chair and slow danced with me, still singing. As the song ended, she said to me, still holding the mike. "Thank you, baby, for giving my life a purpose I thought was gone for good. I love you Jason Waite."

We handed off the mike to the next singer and took our seat. Darren was back behind the equipment, and Minnie was sitting with us. "Wow, just wow," she said, then paused. After a minute just staring at us she said. "You two really do love each other. It's obvious the way you are together. You're totally comfortable with each other. Sometimes it's scary because it's like you can read each other's minds."

We didn't stay until the bar closed, but wandered back to our room just after midnight. Shavonda was in my arms the minute the door closed. "Undress your queen," she ordered in a sultry voice. I lifted her red leopard print shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. Leaning in to kiss her, I felt her unbuckle my belt, and loosen the button on my pants. She gently lowered the zipper as I unsnapped her black lace bra.

Pulling apart, I quickly kicked off my slip-on shoes, and let my pants fall to the floor. Shavonda loosened my tie and unbuttoned my red dress shirt. She pulled the tie over my head as I removed my shirt. During our movements, her bra cups had fallen free of her breasts and hung loosely from her elbows. Even after all this time, I never tired of the sight of my ebony goddess topless, dark nipples pointing, awaiting my attention. I bent to kiss them, taking each into my mouth for a quick pull before pushing her back onto the bed.

Shavonda anticipated my next move, as I slid down her body. I paused to loosen the button on her jeans and carefully unzipped them before continuing down to her feet. I undid the straps on her red heels, pulling each shoe from her foot before taking each toe into my mouth. "Mmmmmm," she moaned sensually. "Nobody else has loved my feet like you do. Play with them, big boy." I loved the way her soles, which had healed completely, were lighter than the rest of her body. They were almost as light as I was. I gave them the massage I'd wanted to a month ago, when we were holed up in the jacuzzi room. Then, her injuries had prevented me from touching them, now they were fair game.

I gently kneaded the balls of her feet, while I licked her arches. She squirmed in pleasure. I was happy I was going to spend a lifetime doing this, worshipping at her temple, bringing her pleasure from places nobody else had thought to explore. I loved that she was so responsive to my touch. We didn't always indulge in foot worship, but when we did the results were explosive.

"Baby boy, you'd better get these pants off before I nut without you," Shavonda pleaded. I obliged her by pulling her tight jeans down her legs and over her ankles. Quickly, I returned to gently take her lacy panties between my teeth, and tug them down. She lifted her hips off the bed to help me, her hands on mine as I slid the sides down over her hips. She lay naked on the bed, in the light from the table lamp, dark chocolate with a pink center inviting me to taste the nectar within. She reached over to the table, turning on the cd player with one of our iPods docked there. Neither of us knew whose it was, and it didn't really matter. The music it contained was the same regardless. Tonight, Angie Stone started the evening.

"Come taste it. She's waiting," Shavonda beckoned me between her thighs. She knew what I wanted, she wanted it too, just as bad as I did. I kissed my way up her inner thighs, her hands on the back of my head, guiding me home. Reaching my goal, I gently spread her lips apart and licked her from bottom to top, ending on her clit. She rolled her hips beneath me as I lapped up her love juices. "Mmmm, Jason, just like that," she moaned. I continued my feast, poking my tongue deep inside her toward the source of her honey. Her hands held my head in place as she thrust her hips against my tongue, trying to drive me deeper inside her. I swirled my tongue deep within her, seeking her release.

Shavonda's inner walls convulsed around my tongue as the first mini orgasm took her. Her legs had found their way over my shoulders, and her legs and feet were urging me deeper in synch with her hands, which had ahold of my hair. "Oh, fuck," she cried out, "Oh shit. Don't stop, Jason. Eat my pussy, baby. Eat me till I come." I continued my licks, enjoying her wild ride on my face. My nose was buried in the tight curls of her pubic hair, and the scent of her arousal was driving me wild.

"Uhhh. God. Ohhhh." Shavonda arched her crotch into my face, holding me in place with her hands and legs as the big one took ahold of her body. My face was drenched with her juices as her pleasure overtook her. She held me against her pussy as my tongue continued to seek her moisture while her inner walls squeezed my tongue, trying to milk me of juices that I couldn't give her. I kept my tongue inserted in her pussy until she started to relax, and pulled away as her hips collapsed on the bed, spent.

"Jason, baby," I heard her whimper. "Please come up here and kiss me." I slid up her body, taking a lick at her nipples, before placing my lips over hers in a passionate kiss. "Mmmm, this never gets old," Shavonda purred. "I can't believe that this is going to be mine for the rest of my life."

"It's already yours," I said. "I made the commitment to you a long time ago. The marriage ceremony is for you. As far as I am concerned, we've been married for a while." I had worked my way so that my dick head was poised to enter her, awaiting her signal.

"Jason, you are so sweet." Shavonda kissed me again. She thrust up into me, seeking my entrance. I slid easily inside her slick tunnel. She moaned into my mouth as I felt her aftershocks shudder through her body. Slowly, tenderly I thrust my way deeper inside her, with slow deliberate strokes. She responded by meeting my thrusts with her own. We made love slow and easy, neither of us wanting it to end, until we could stand it no longer. I rolled us over so that she was on top.

"Ride it baby," I hissed. "It's yours." Shavonda's hips glided over mine as she ground herself into me with increasing passion. She placed my hands on her hips, where I squeezed and massaged her. Her hands were on my shoulders, bracing herself as she rode me toward her climax. Her breasts bounced invitingly, tantalizingly mere inches from my mouth but her hands pinned me down so that all I could do is watch.

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