tagInterracial LoveLove Knows No Color Pt. 24

Love Knows No Color Pt. 24


Sorry this has taken so long to post. I took a couple weeks off from writing to enjoy my honeymoon and to adjust to married life. Since we'd already built our life together, it hasn't been a big adjustment. But it has affected the way we see each other, and i am proud of my queen. She is the inspiration for this story, and the feelings Jason has for his queen are my own.


When we arrived at our house, Ziggy was waiting for us on the porch, in his police uniform, his squad car parked in the driveway. Ramona was with him. As Shavonda woke the kids and unstrapped them from their car seats, I headed up the steps to see what was up.

"Go ahead and put the kids to bed," Ziggy said. "I'd prefer not to discuss this in front of them." His expression, and that of Ramona, was grim. This didn't look good.

I carried Brittany inside and put her to bed while Shavonda did the same with Ethan. I returned for Miracle, unlocking her carrier from its car seat base and carrying her inside. She could sleep there for the night. Meanwhile, Shavonda had invited the two police officers inside, offering them something to drink. She returned with four glasses of ghetto Kool aid.

Ziggy was pacing the floor nervously. He took a long drink from the glass before starting. "Von, do you know a Durrell Cabbagestalk?"

"DuDu? I used to babysit him many years ago but I haven't seen him in a long time." Shavonda looked perplexed. "Why? Is he in trouble?"

"I think you'd better sit down," Ziggy replied. He exchanged glances with Ramona as we sat on the couch. Both officers remained standing. "Durrell's been in prison for a couple of years on drug charges. But, there is no easy way to say this so I'll just come right out and say it. Shoemacher is dead. Durrell killed him."

Shavonda leaned against me, eyes wide. Instinctively, my arm went around my wife. "He, he what?" she stammered. "When? How? You don't think we had anything to do with this do you?"

"You are not under investigation," Ramona said gently. "But we have to interview everybody Durrell knew. Your name came up. Evidently, one of the women Shoemacher sexually assaulted was Durrell's half-sister."

"I never knew he had a half-sister," Shavonda said, visibly shaken. "I only knew of him and his two brothers. His mother went to my church, and I sat the boys for her when I was a teenager." She let out a deep, sobbing breath. "Ok, what happened."

"Like Ramona said," Ziggy replied, "D'neice Lang, one of the women who testified in the trial, was his half-sister. When he found out who Shoemacher was, he caught him in the shower and stabbed him with a weapon made from a toothbrush. Two other inmates stood guard while he attacked Shoemacher. By the time the guards got there, he'd been stabbed 37 times. Durrell claims he wasn't trying to kill Shoemacher, but there was nothing left of Shoemacher's genitalia. Most of the wounds were there, but there was one deep one in the neck that just missed an artery, and the one that killed him was on the thigh. It hit the artery and Shoemacher bled to death before they could get him to the hospital."

Shavonda was shaking against me. I held onto her tightly. "I never wanted him dead," she said in a tiny voice. "All I wanted was justice. If I'd have known I wouldn't have testified. How is his wife taking it?" Once again Shavonda had surprised me. The man who tried to assault her died in prison, and her first thoughts were for his wife? If it had been me, I would have felt a sense of relief that he was dead, never to bother me or anybody else again.

"She's devastated. She stood by her man to the end. Now she has to raise two boys on her own. She's coping as well as can be expected," Ziggy explained.

"I never meant to take him from his family," Shavonda was crying now. I felt bad for her. None of this was her fault, yet she was blaming herself for what happened. "He was supposed to do his time and return to them."

"Von, baby," I said softly, "You did nothing wrong. He was a predator. He tried to use you and others for his own pleasure, never mind the consequences for his victims. He got karma. Karma is a bitch. Sometimes when karma comes around innocent people get caught in the middle. There is no way you could have stopped this from happening."

"His kids will have no daddy now. His wife has to raise them by herself," Von said in a tiny voice. "Dudu threw his life away. Where does it end?"

"You worry about everybody," said Ramona in a soothing voice. "You did what you had to. But we were going to take him off the streets one way or another. We couldn't let him continue to prey on those women and hide behind his badge. We all took an oath to serve and protect. Not just the ones on the straight and narrow, but all people deserve our protection. He also swore to uphold the law not break it. When he hid behind his badge he violated that oath. I'm not saying what happened to him was right. But I am not sorry for him either."

"Have you talked to the sister?" I asked. "Maybe she set him up?"

Ziggy replied, "Off the record, of course. Nothing I tell you is to leave this room, ok." He shifted nervously before continuing. "D'neice says she went to visit her brother in prison. She hadn't told him about what happened. It was just coincidence that Shoemacher had a visitor at the same time. D'neice saw him and froze. Durrell asked her what was wrong, and that's when she told him about the assault. Durrell's version of the story matches hers."

Is she facing any charges?" Shavonda asked.

"No," Ziggy replied. "My understanding is that she had no idea he was even in that facility. She saw him there and freaked out."

"When is the funeral?" Shavonda asked. "I need to help his family. I need to talk to them."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Ramona said, shaking her head no. "She's in denial about what happened. She actually blamed me for taking him away from her."

"So, what can I do to help then?" Shavonda was serious.

"You can't. We will take up a donation in the department, but probably not a lot of people are going to care about the family of a disgraced former cop. They lost his pension when he was convicted, so I know they're hurting for money right now." Ziggy explained.

I pondered the sticky situation that family was in. Shoemacher's conduct had cost them everything. On the force, he had a pension, and full benefits. His actions had caused them to lose all that. Probably he had a hefty life insurance policy as part of the benefits as well, that was lost when he went to prison. Basically, the only money they would have gotten from his death would have been any insurance they'd bought on their own. Upon his arrest, they would have had to rely solely on what his wife earned. I had no idea what she did for a living. Like Shavonda, a part of me worried about how they would survive, even as another part of me was glad he'd paid the ultimate price. He had, after all, taken the woman I loved above all others from me for the intent of sexually assaulting her. And I had been powerless to stop him. I had felt so useless.

No, that wasn't true. I hadn't been powerless. I hadn't been able to stop him from hauling her off in the squad car, but my quick actions in calling Ziggy had stopped the assault before it could get started. The more I thought about that night the angrier I got. I pictured my queen, cuffed helplessly in the backseat, scared out of her mind as the officer took her not to the station to be booked, but to a secluded dead end nestled in a deep ravine for the sole purpose of having his way with her.

He had been under the belief she was a prostitute. And that if she was giving it up for money, then she could be intimidated into giving it up to him for free. The promise was that he'd let her go without charges if she'd submit. The implied threat was physical violence if she didn't. How appropriate that he met his end at the hands of a family member of one of his many victims.

But in the end, he had underestimated Shavonda. A lot of people did. By assuming she was a common streetwalker, and not the pillar of the minority business community she was, he had made a huge mistake. She had credibility the others lacked. And we had friends in Zone 3 where he was stationed. In the end, her credibility had been instrumental in stopping him. Because now it wasn't just the streetwalkers and addicts he was preying upon, it was somebody strong enough to fight back.

Shavonda had testified in court that, had the assault continued, she would have inflicted serious injury upon him in defending herself. That beautiful smile would have become a formidable weapon, and that warm wet mouth that had brought me so much pleasure would have brought him nothing but pain. Luckily, by that time, the station commander was aware of the situation and had ordered Shoemacher to bring his prisoner in to the station. And to either charge her or release her.

No, in my mind he was better off dead.

And now that he was, rather than feeling relief that he was no longer around, all my beautiful wife could think about was his family. Because, as much as anybody else they were victims too. I would support her in whatever she decided to do. I knew she'd do the right thing. She always had.

In the meantime, we were going to have a rough time. After Ziggy and Ramona had left the house, all I could do was hold her, rub her back and feet, and tell her it was going to be all right. That somehow, his family would get through this. And that we would help them if they wanted.

In the end, we did go to the funeral. Ziggy and Ramona insisted on going with us, as a calming influence. Shavonda and I had approached the grieving widow to offer our condolences and to offer any assistance we could.

"I know who you are," the widow had snapped. "And I don't want your whore money." I could see Shavonda tense up, about to say something. About to go off. I'd seen it happen before. When she got mad the ghetto came out. This was not the time and place for that. Shavonda was doing a good job keeping herself in check, and Ramona quickly steered her into another room as Ziggy and I watched.

"Ma'am," I replied coolly, "My wife wanted to help you. She is no whore as you put it. She's never slept with anybody to get what she has. You underestimate her greatly. We have the resources to help you through this. But if you don't want our help just say so. We are all victims here." I looked at her, and the other family members gathered around her. Nobody replied, they just glared at me. I turned and walked away, leaving Ziggy behind to talk to the family.

Finding Ramona in another room, calming Shavonda down. We'd all expected something like this. And that's why our officer friends had accompanied us to the funeral, so the situation wouldn't get out of hand. Ziggy soon joined us, telling us that he'd calmed things down. That the widow was still upset we'd shown up. That we'd do best to just leave the situation alone. That they didn't want our help, wouldn't accept anything we offered. In the end, we sought out the funeral director and, upon finding out the family hadn't been able to pay for the funeral Shavonda wrote a check on the spot for the full amount. She insisted that the director not tell the family who paid the bill. At least now, the family could use any insurance money to get back on their feet, to live off for a few months if they needed to.

But the whole ordeal had taken a toll on Shavonda. I saw her beautiful smile less these days, and she often seemed to be brooding. Her eyes smoldered, not with the lust and sexual energy I loved but with an anger and sadness that hadn't been there before.

To add to the stress, things were happening quickly, problems popping up out of nowhere that had to be dealt with immediately.

My work conditions took a turn for the worse. While I was away on vacation, the temp who'd taken over my run had trashed the truck. I had to top off all the fluids, the oil being particularly low. He obviously hadn't popped the hood all week. All my load straps were a jumbled mess thrown in the tool box under the trailer. I spent the better part of an hour just untangling them so I could use them, because I sure as hell wasn't going out on the road with an unrestrained load. The tractor was missing not one but both mud flaps, I'd run with it like that for the day but it would have to be taken care of soon. One of my mirrors was broken as well. I dutifully wrote it all up on the inspection report.

Evidently, we'd also gotten a new night crew loading the trucks as well. Everything was loaded haphazardly in the trailer, without regard for how I was going to secure the load. That first day I managed to get it all strapped down, but I left the lot about 2 hours later than normal.

Meanwhile, things were starting to come apart on Shavonda's end as well. Velma, in effect our second in command, was starting to grumble about everything. I came home that night to find her in the living room venting to Shavonda about Kenny. "Has he done something wrong?" I asked.

"He took last Monday off," Velma said.

"Other than that, how has he been working out?" Shavonda asked.

"He's very good. He's meticulous in his work. I have no problem with his work. He has a good attitude as well. Always shows up on time, does what he is assigned without problems," Velma conceded.

"SO, other than the day I gave him off so he could go see his classmates with us, you have no problems?" Shavonda asked pointedly. And that's when the dam broke.

"You know, Shavonda Marie, you used to care about this place," Velma said angrily. "We built this business up from nothing. You, me and Tamika. But since Jason started coming around it's like you don't care anymore. You started taking days off on a whim, whenever you felt like it, to be with him. Now even on the days you are working I rarely see you. You're always off somewhere working on books, or a web page. You don't create the things that got us this far anymore. When was the last time you made a Navajo pendant?"

The other ladies from the Monday night card games were gathered around the kitchen table, listening in shock as Velma unloaded everything she had. Shavonda waited patiently for Velma to finish before setting her straight.

"First off, Aunt Velma, this is MY business, to run the way I see fit," Shavonda replied. "I run this. Never forget that. If I need to take a day off, I will do so. I have also been very generous to all my employees. Kenny didn't ask for the day off. I GAVE it to him, so he could come with us and see his old friends. The man is doing us a favor by even working for us. He's only here for a short time, until he finds a job in his line of work. And if you'd have asked for a personal day, I'd have given it to you too. Or Tamika. Y'all are family. Kenny is too, whether you like it or not."

Shavonda continued her rant, "Second, I know we built this store together, and I rewarded you for that by putting you in charge of the original store. But don't get it twisted. Aunt or not, you are NOT replaceable. I've taught Tamika how to run the other store. And Nykole is also in training. I can step back in and run things until we can get her up to speed in I need to. If you don't like the way things are going around here, please feel free to leave. We'll miss you but we'll manage. All you will do is delay the opening of the third store. Delay, not cancel. We will grow and prosper with or without you. Which one we do is up to you."

Velma left in a huff, with 5 black women staring after her from the doorway to the kitchen. For a long time everybody was silent, then a voice said softly, "Oooooh, I guess you told HER." That was enough to break the tension in the room, and we all fell out laughing. I joined Shavonda, Edie, Shaunice, Patty and Tamika at the kitchen table for a game of cutthroat Uno while the kids played outside until dark.

Later that night, we talked in the bed, holding each other. Shavonda was calmed down now. "Are you really going to let her go?" I asked.

"Of course not," Shavonda laughed. "Velma's family. She's a valuable part of our business. I am NOT going to fire her. But SHE doesn't know that. I let her vent, then let her sweat a little. She'll fall back in line."

"But what if she quits? Won't that hurt our business?" I asked, incredulous that Shavonda would play her aunt like that.

"Naw," Shavonda dismissed my concern. "She sixty-one years old. Where she gonna go? Who gonna hire her at that age? Nobody will pay her what she worth but me. No, Jason, she'll stay because she got it good here. She right about one thing though. I do gotta get back to doing what I love most. Let somebody else handle books and inventory and stuff like that."

That's when I got the idea of how I could help. "Teach me the books," I said. "I can handle it if I know what I'm doing. I've taken and understand calculus, trig, and algebra. Business math can't be too hard."

"See that's why I love you," Shavonda said. "That and old Thor who rocks my world every chance he gets." She laughed. "But yeah, I'll teach you if you want to learn."

We discussed other things in bed as well, after the kids had gone to sleep. Except when Shavonda was ovulating, we didn't sex that often anymore, at least not all the way. But we still slept naked together, and most nights she fed my milk fetish. We craved each other's touch even we didn't go all the way. Let's face it, I was addicted to Shavonda. I loved the way her dark chocolate skin made almost anything bright she wore glow against her skin. I loved the way our bodies contrasted against each other when we touched. I reveled in her curves, delighted in her thick, dark bullseye nipples centered on her large areolae, sometimes with a little bead of milk on the tip. I obsessed over the waist that my hands naturally gravitated to when we walked side by side, fell in love with the way her hips flared into the booty that had turned me into an ass man. I thoroughly enjoyed her shapely legs, tapering into those pretty feet whose toes she loved to show off in her summer sandals and heels. Above all, I enjoyed the triangle of tight, wispy black curls that drew my eyes to the puffy lips where her legs joined. Lips slightly darker than the rest of her skin, that parted slightly when she was aroused to reveal just a peek at the bright pink treasure within. Yes, she was my goddess, and I knew she worshipped my body in the same way.

Sometimes, it seemed we were too exhausted to actually make love. But every night we touched, and often fell asleep snuggled together. Many nights, we had oral sex even though we were tired. Usually because one of us had a taste for the other's juices. "Just lay back and enjoy," one of us would say, then work our magical tongues as the receiving partner sank back into the pillows in heated bliss. I loved the way she tasted and felt on my tongue, tangy and slightly sweet. I also enjoyed the scent of her arousal, and made sure to rub my face in her juices as I went down on her, coating myself and ensuring that long after we were done I would be able to smell her on my skin. Our passion was unrestrained. We were so comfortable with each other that Shavonda had no qualms about playing in my hair as I lapped at her juicy slit, holding my head in place with both hands as she rode my tongue to orgasm.

It worked well the other way as well. Shavonda loved to play with my manhood, stroking it with her dark hand until she could take no more and desire came over her. Desire to taste my essence. She would crawl from beside me, coming up from the foot of the bed with catlike grace to lay between my spread legs. Eyes locked as she took my erect penis in her hands and swirled her tongue around the tip before taking me fully into her mouth. Knowing that once her lips closed around my shaft it probably wasn't coming back out without releasing its nut. And being fully okay with that, because Shavonda never backed off. She always let me know how much she enjoyed my taste, and encouraged me to come in her mouth. She loved sucking me as much as I loved eating her. Loved watching my reaction as her wicked tongue and soft, full lips worked their magic. I played in her hair as she did so, enjoying either the coarse texture of her straightened hair, or the soft feel of her natural curls, depending on how she was wearing it that day. All the while looking into her eyes as her head bobbed. Muscles tightening as I desperately tried to delay my release until I could take it no more. Finally, surrendering to the pleasure of her willing mouth, while looking into dark smoldering eyes that told me to just let it go and give her what she wanted. Feeling my muscles suddenly spasm as I forcefully drained my nut into her sucking cavern. Her hand on my shaft, preventing me from burying myself deep within her throat, holding just the first couple inches in her mouth so she could better taste me. Enjoying watching the look of pure bliss in her eyes as she desperately tried to swallow it all, sometimes failing with a rivulet escaping the corners of her mouth and running down her chin. Finally, feeling her hand pump the final few drops from my rapidly wiiting hardon, popping me from her mouth with a smile when she was sure she'd gotten it all. A warm, loving sticky smile, frothy with my cum.

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