Love Knows No Color Pt. 12

We all had a good laugh. Our banter was always good natured ribbing. But this time Shavonda had turned the tables on them.

Sally finally responded, "Ummm, well, we do what feels good." Bob nodded in agreement.

"Exactly," Shavonda said. "We do what feels good. We do what we like, and as long as we both having fun, it ain't wrong. Besides, how else was he going to give me one of these?" Shavonda guided Sally's hand to where the baby was, and after a few minutes, Sally felt the little nudge in Shavonda's belly. "Wow," was all she said.

"Y'all do realize the next time you see us the baby will probably be here," Shavonda told them. "I'm already over halfway there."

The kids were out playing, as they usually did, in the yard. Soon Calvin and his family arrived, giving the kids somebody to play with. There was quite a crowd gathered on the back porch by this time, probably 12 people gathered around two tables set up. The hamburgers and chicken was cooking on the grill, and the smell of good food was everywhere. Getting hungry, I found the bowls of chips and pretzels in the kitchen and brought them out. I knew Shavonda had to be hungry too, she was eating for two.

We sat, munching potato chips and pretzels. I always loved eating them together, and I had turned Shavonda on to the combined taste. So, we were each grabbing a chip and a pretzel at the same time and eating them together. Mom noticed and said, "I see you've corrupted her there as well. Nobody else eats them like that."

"We like what we like," Shavonda said. "I've turned him on to some things, and he's turned me on to some things. But turns out, we mostly like the same things. We want the same things. It's why we are so good together. I love this man, and if he loves something I am gonna try it. And he'll try the things I love, just because I love them. Why you think he like his Kool aid sweet?"

"Well," I said, "I still don't put hot sauce on my eggs."

"I don't do that anymore," Shavonda said quietly. "Baby don't like it." She was right. The baby would give her heartburn if she ate the wrong things. We kept a ready supply of Rolaids around just for her.

I know what Shavonda loved most about my family were these frank discussions. This was the woman I had fallen in love with. Her honest, warts and all style was a refreshing change of pace from the way people normally were. Especially in my previous dating life. Everybody was trying to convince you they were somebody else. Then when they thought they had you hooked, their true self came out. Shavonda's true self had come out long before we ever met, and the woman who seduced me that first night was the same woman who'd become my wife. Her openness had also led a much closer relationship with my own family. And for that I was forever grateful.

As an example, the past couple of times we were sitting on the porch having uncensored discussions about our sexuality, in front of parents who'd never told me about the birds and the bees. And, while uncomfortable for me at first, it always felt natural. Such was Shavonda's influence on my family.

When Calvin and his family showed up, along with his parents, Uncle Walt and Aunt Penny, the reunion was complete. Matthew couldn't make it, he had to work and lived on the Blue Ridge escarpment just north of the South Carolina border, a couple hundred miles to the southwest. Steven was living in Colorado. They'd both spent their money and vacation days to get to our wedding.

After we ate, but before they cut Grandma's cake, Shavonda and I snuck off for a little while. We'd asked them to hold off on the cake until we got back. I wanted to get our week 21 pregnancy photos, and this time I wanted them to be outdoors. We walked up the old disused road into what was once the upper pasture. Over the years since my family had sold off the cattle and got out of the farming business, the upper pasture had grown over into a mountain meadow dotted with cedar bushes and small pine trees. It had become a beautiful place. And this was the perfect spot for our special photos.

Shavonda first posed clothed in her maternity dress, hands cupping her baby bump, or rubbing it lovingly. For the second series, our personal photos, she lifted the dress over her head, and stripped out of her black bra and panties. We took the photos in the same poses, side profiles and a front shot. Photos done, I did rub up on her because she was so irresistibly sexy. But we knew they were waiting on us back down below, so we stifled our urges. I helped her into her clothes, and we walked back down the path hand in hand.

Once back at the house, we lit the candles. But at Grandma's request, Shavonda soloed the Happy Birthday. Her voice was beautiful as usual. Grandma had always remarked on her voice, every time we'd talked. It was fitting that she sang for Grandma. She also let Grandma feel the baby kick. Our baby was pretty active these past couple of days, Shavonda told me. I was glad. An active baby is a healthy one.

After cake and ice cream, I got my laptop out of the car and uploaded the photos. I saved the nudes in a separate folder, and arranged the clothed ones in a slide show. I gathered the family round and showed them the slide show of the progress of Shavonda's pregnancy, starting with week 12 and ending with the photos taken a few minutes ago.

"I thought she looked like she was starting to show at the wedding," Mom said.

"I first noticed her bulge that night at the motel," I said. "I'm glad we didn't have a June wedding. We'd have had to alter the gown. The first photos were taken two days after the wedding, right after she'd gotten out of the hospital. I've been taking a new set every Sunday since then."

"When Is the due date?" Grandma asked.

"November 22," Shavonda said. "I can't wait."

"We'll let you know when she goes into labor," I said. "We'd love it if you could make it to the hospital."

Later, we broke out the instruments and played music while Shavonda sang. I joked to Calvin and Kenny that one of them was going to have to learn how to play saxophone, so we could do Shavonda's songs justice. They'd learned a couple of new songs for her. Since the basslines were simple, I really didn't have to learn the songs, and Shavonda already knew them. She had an ear for music, which was why she always sang on key. She could take any song, and after hearing it once could perform it passably.

The first song they learned, knowing how much Shavonda loved Macy Gray, was Sweet Baby. Shavonda sang:

Many times I've been told that I should go

But they don't know

What we got baby

Then they not see the love in you

But love I do

And I'm staying right here

Ummm sweet sweet baby life is crazy

But there's one thing

I am sure of

That I'm your lady

Always baby

And I love you now and ever

I knew how much she loved this song. Actually, I loved it too. It was the song that introduced me to Macy Gray, long before I'd ever met Shavonda. But it took on special meaning with her.

The other song the learned was one for me. Trains, by Porcupine Tree. The banjo part was tailor made for Kenny's picking.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing the songs we'd done before. This tradition would continue. Every time we visited, Kenny and Calvin would have a couple of new songs to add. We'd perform them and the ones we already knew. Because Calvin and Kenny were brothers and lived nearby, they were able to play together often and had rehearsed the songs before we had arrived. Shavonda had the natural gift that allowed her to sing the songs once she had heard them, and I was the weakest link. I was passable on the old upright bass, but just barely. I just tried to hit the proper notes, and didn't try to embellish the way I would have if I'd been more of a virtuoso. It's hard to play like Bootsy Collins when you have Dee Dee Ramone's level of talent.

In the evening, we lit the fire again, and the family introduced Shavonda's family to mountain pies. These were sandwiches cooked in the fire in a special pie iron. We usually made pizza versions, but you could put whatever you wanted in as filling. You buttered the bread slices while the iron was open, one slice on each side. You'd then add the fillings, in this case, pizza sauce, pepperoni and mozzarella. Then you'd quickly fold the two halves of the iron together and lock it. The iron would pinch the bread crusts together, sealing in the fillings as the iron cooked. The iron, for best results, would be placed in the hot coals at the base of the fire. Occasionally, you'd pull the iron out and open it to see how well done the bread was. When it was a golden brown like French toast, you'd pull the iron from the fire, open it halfway, and shake the mountain pie out onto a paper plate.

Shavonda and her parents loved the pies. So did the kids, but you know how kids are. As long as you call it pizza, they'll eat ketchup and moldy cheese on cardboard and be happy about it. But with how much fun we had making them, we knew it was something we'd have to try back home. I knew I could get the irons in a camping store, or even the camping gear section of a Walmart or Target. We had enough room in our backyard for a fire pit, out among the bird feeders.

As the evening got late, family members drifted back to the house. Calvin, Kenny and Sally all went home with their families, leaving Grandma and our parents behind. After the last of them had headed back to the house for bed, and we'd tucked the kids in ourselves, we made our way back to the tent for one final night.

"I love sleeping out here like this," Shavonda said. "It's so peaceful. I wish we didn't have to go back." The night was still warm, well into the upper 70s, and since we now had privacy we removed our clothing and sat naked in front of the fire. We watched the firelight dance across each other's bodies. We saw the glint in each other's eyes. Tonight, there was no rush to touch each other in our special spots. We just sat in my parents' reclining folding chair, my arm around her holding her close. It was time for introspection.

"Jason," Shavonda said, "Have I ever told you you're a beautiful man? That just seeing your pale hands on my body turns me on in ways I could never imagine. You're not the first white boy I've been with. But something about you and the way you made me feel when I first saw you was different. Even though you look nothing like what I dreamed of, you are my fantasy come true." She snuggled under my arm as I gently stroked her nipple in lazy circles with my thumb.

"You've given me everything I wanted," she continued. "I now have my own baby, kids who love me, a wonderful husband who worships me, and in-laws who love me just the way I am. What more could a girl want? Do you

even realize how special you are?"

"I know how special you are. You bring out the best in me," I replied. I bent my head to kiss her. Our lips met. I was happy. We were happy together. Marriage, so far, was turning out to be even better than being merely lovers. Our hearts now beat as one. We were one. Separation would cause irreparable harm to both of us.

We were content, tonight, just to hold each other. To run our hands over each other's body. For me to feel the smooth softness of her ebony skin. And for her to feel the solidness of my body, so different from hers. It was intoxicating. It was sensual. It was erotic. And yet, we felt no need tonight to take it all the way. Touching was enough. As sleep overtook us, we retired to the tent, snuggling our way into dreamland. I lay on my back, with my beautiful dark wife on her side curled up into me. Our legs were intertwined, her arm was thrown across my chest, and she nuzzled my neck.

We slept, bodies entwined, to the night sounds of rural Appalachia. Distant trains. Off in the distance owls and a lone coyote. The ever-present crickets. Even in the peaceful quiet, there were a lot of things to hear. And all of them were soothing.

In the morning, we awoke. We packed our things and tore down the tent in the long shadows just after sunrise. We deflated the air mattress and rolled it up into its box. I wanted to get this done before the scorching heat returned. Shavonda sat on the back porch as I loaded up the Jeep. I grabbed clean clothes for us from our duffel bags, and led her by the hand to the upstairs bathroom. We quickly stripped, and entered the shower. Shavonda had packed her bath gloves, and I enjoyed the soapy scratchy feeling as she scrubbed my back. She turned me around and scrubbed my chest and legs, lifting each one to get at my feet. It felt good.

Peeling off her gloves, she handed them to me. "My turn," I started with her front, washing her neck and breasts. Then working my way down over the baby to her legs. Just like she had done with me, I lifted her legs and washed her feet, making sure to get between her toes. Lowering her leg, I gently turned her around. I soaped up the twin brown globes of her ass, running my gloved hand down her crack. Kneading her hips, I worked my way up her back. My member found its way between her soapy cheeks, and Shavonda playfully wiggled her ass against me as she felt me sliding in her crack. There was no penetration. There didn't need to be.

I continued to scrub her back as she sensually swayed her hips in front of me. I put a lot of effort into concentrating on her back, which was getting increasingly hard to do. The soap had lubricated her ass and her movements had me hard and increasingly closer to the edge. Shavonda felt this and bent over grinding her ass back into me. "Take me, Jason," she whispered.

"I won't last," I protested.

"Neither will I," Shavonda purred, reaching behind her to grab my dick. I felt her walls open to accept me as she guided me inside, then close around me in a comfortable squeeze.

"God, you're tight," I moaned, stilling myself inside her. It took all my willpower not to pound into her and release right then. She let me get adjusted to her tightness, then started grinding back into me, gyrating her hips from side to side. God this woman's hips were dangerous. Their hypnotic sway had me following her like a puppy dog for the past 14 months.

I started to thrust into her. Almost immediately, she moaned and her walls convulsed around me. "I'm right there, baby," Shavonda moaned. "Take me home. Give it to me." She ground back onto me as I grabbed her by the hips and thrust my way as deep inside her as I could. I could feel the urgency building and knew neither of us was going to last. We were both too far gone to stop now. I quickened my pace, loving the slapping sound as our bodies connected repeatedly. Shavonda's moans became louder, more urgent, turning into growls as she tightened around me. The whole thing was over in about 3 minutes, as her body violently pulled my nut from me. I exploded inside her with enough force to buckle my legs, and I fought to remain standing as I shot deep inside her waiting body. My legs quivered like jello as I enjoyed her pulsating rhythm trying to pull every drop of my seed into her womb.

We turned off the water as I sat on the closed toilet seat, dripping water all over the bathroom floor. "Intense," was all Shavonda could breathlessly say. We sat there, me on the toilet lid, her on the edge of the tub, looking deep into each other's eyes as we tried to catch our breath. The spell was broken by a knocking on the door.

"Hey you two," came James deep booming voice. "Other people need to use the bathroom. You almost done?" We both convulsed with breathless laughter.

"Be. Out. In. A. Minute." I said between gasps. Shavonda handed me a towel, and started drying me off. I toweled her off at the same time. We dried each other's backs as we kissed. Once dry, we quickly changed into our clean clothes, and left the bathroom to face an amused James.

"Don't think we don't know what you did in there," he smiled.

"You should grab Althea and get you some," I shot back with a smile. Shavonda laughed, holding my arm. We made our way down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen, where Mom was making breakfast. The kids were still asleep. The whole house had the quiet feel of the mornings I remembered from my childhood.

"Morning, kids," Mom said before turning around to face us. "Von, you know you've had a lasting effect on this family. We see the world a little differently because of you. And I'm glad of it. You've opened our eyes."

She turned to me. Shavonda had her feet in my lap as we sat in the old wooden kitchen chairs. "And you, Jefferson," Mom said. "You've made us proud. The lessons we raised you with, you've taken them to heart. And because you did, we now are blessed to have this beautiful young woman as family. And her parents as well. We know you two have been carrying on around here like this place was some love nest. But your love is catching. And things have gotten a little better around here because you two love each other. Watching you two, the way you touch each other, speak to each other, it's warmed our hearts. Even the way you both talk about the other when they're not around. The awe and respect you have for each other. Don't ever lose that. It's a precious gift, that kind of love. If you lose that, you'll never find it again."

"You know," she continued, "I'm beginning to wonder how many folks are trapped with people they don't love, because they were afraid to pursue the one they truly wanted. It would be a shame if you'd have lost each other. Thank God you were open minded enough to see past the barriers to the love beyond."

"You know what Von told me the night I asked her out for the first time?" I replied. "She said, 'It would be a shame if you lost your queen because you didn't ask her out.' Well, I did, and she's everything I ever wanted and then some." Shavonda looked at me lovingly. "See what I would have missed out on, had I not taken the chance on something different?"

Shavonda said softly, "I sensed it in him. He was reluctant, unsure of himself. I encouraged him. Gave him a push when he needed it. Led him by the hand to where he wanted to be. Did you know we talked online for months, and he never came on to me? We talked about everything in the world, except us together. He bared his soul to me, not knowing whether I would hurt him. Rose had sent him a letter, saying she wanted him back. He didn't love her and didn't trust her. But he would have gone to her for the kids' sake. And she'd have remarried him, then divorced him and taken his house. I prodded him, because I knew I could do better for him, if he'd only see me as more than a friend. And I knew if he went back to Rose, I'd lose him forever."

I got up and woke the kids, letting the two women have a final conversation without me. They got dressed, while I packed their bags and loaded them in the Jeep. When I got back inside, the kids and Shavonda were sitting at the kitchen table, attacking stacks of pancakes. James came down the stairs holding Althea's hand. He smiled at me and nodded. Evidently, he'd taken my suggestion. My parents weren't the only ones we were having an effect on.

After breakfast, we finished loading the car, and said our goodbyes. Mom hugged Shavonda for a long time, saying, "I'm gonna miss you girl." We all hugged Grandma, before getting in the cars and making our way back to Pittsburgh.

The next two weekends, Rose had the kids. It turned out to be a good thing we let her have them those two weekends, as her sentencing hearing was Thursday August 8, the day before my birthday.

The final weekend, Althea sat with us as Rose brought the kids to Tamika's house, formerly mine. The four of us sat on the porch, drinking iced tea, as Rose led the kids up the stairs. You could see the fear and defeat in her eyes. I felt bad for her. I didn't know much about the sentencing process, but I knew there couldn't be many more weekends left for her.