Personal Sacrifice for Others

Dedicated to Amy the woman who opened my eyes and mind up to so many possibilities and experiences. I shall never forget them.

The year was 1961. Racism in the South was still heavily prevalent. Dr. King was working as hard as he could to help Blacks obtain equal status among white men & women. My family, on the other hand, was not. My deceased father was a staunch member of the KKK. Outspoken and raunchy, he would agitate any Black he saw. Although, he didn't see them as Blacks; he saw them as niggers. Obviously this form of thinking trickled down to my older brother Russ. While he was never a member of the KKK, he would join in anti-black protests and harass any Black family that moved into his neighborhood until they left.

My mother was different. She would never publicly address Blacks politely; especially in the presence of my father. However, she was never mean or rude to them, just seemingly indifferent. Her friends, both male and female, were also racist, yet she somehow overlooked the color of Blacks' skin and never encouraged race baiting in the house or at the dinner table. My father and brother never knew why my mother was so indifferent to Blacks. It sometimes frustrated my father, but he would never hit her or force her into anything she didn't truly want to do. Yet, I knew why, or at least had a big hunch, as to why my mother was comparatively nice to Blacks while my father wasn't.

About 13 years ago in May I was on my way home from school. Being 18 and being a senior, I was able to leave school a bit early. I came home to find my mother making love to a black man on the living room couch. I say it was making love because my mother would never curse, never use a slur. She would always use the term "making love" when talking about marriage. I wasn't particularly interested in hating Blacks. My father's hate speech never really sunk in. I guess the women of the Hart family stick together and view things the same way. Now don't get me wrong, I was completely shocked, angry, and somewhat curious. I was shocked and angry that my mother would cheat on my father; a man that truly loved her. I was curious because I was a virgin at the time and had never seen male genitalia in person before; since it was an Black's genitals, I was made even more curious. That was the only time I ever saw my mother with that man. I didn't know who the man was and frankly, I didn't want to. I spoke to my mother 6 ears ago about that day. She was a bit surprised, and ashamed about being caught, but she told me about the experience.

I won't go into too much detail about it. That is for my mother and her one-time lover to share for all eternity. She was able to recite the details to me as if it had happened yesterday. She assured me that was the only time she had ever slept with someone other than my father. Using the terms large, frantic, deep, and powerful, she described her love making sessions (and yes, she told me it was love making). She told me why she did it, and I commended her to the utmost and wished I could do the same. Oddly enough, I would get my opportunity to do so.

Well, back to 1961, as stated above, my father has passed on. My mother is still living in the same house. My brother is a business tycoon in a sense. I went to college. I got my degree in political law and made a run for a local office; surprisingly I won. Granted, the person I was running against died half way through and his party couldn't find a replacement, but I still won.

I guess it's true what they say about women marrying men that remind them of their father; I married a racist. I don't hate him for it, I love him, sure I'd like him to change, but I can't make him do anything. It wouldn't be fair to him. We have 2 children, an older son who's 8, Roy, and a daughter who's 4, Wendy. My husband is raising our son to be just like him, a racist. I do my best to curve it, and it has worked to some degree, but boy does Will have a control over Roy. Wendy sticks with me and follows nearly all of my foot steps. Weird how history repeats itself huh?

Dr. King came through our little town preaching freedom and equality. As a political figure I obviously had to make appearances here and there. Dr. King surely turned a lot of heads when he came through. Some of my advisors made mention of a big voter turn out in FAVOR of Black equality, de-segregation of schools, and more universal freedoms for them. I was intrigued and anxious to be one of the first politicians to jump on the bandwagon.

So what did I do? I went to Dr. King and other Black rallies and showed my support. I gave speeches, promoted, and shook hands with many people. One man in particular was a great visionary, Erikson Davis. He could talk his way out of almost anything. Erikson was about 10 years older than me. He had big, dark eyes. He was a giant in stature standing at least 6' 6," Erikson was a radical thinker in almost every sense of the term. There was no denying he was Black. I don't even know if the American portion of that is valid. He was dark as night, had an accent, and constantly spoke highly of Africa. My demure 5' 5" frame was dwarfed by him. He and his associates were hesitant at first, but grew to accept me in their meetings and rallies. I figured, if I could work within one of these organizations, I could put forth the best political statement possible.

My husband knew of my meddling, as he'd put it, and tried his best to end it. I fought back and was able to continue. We clashed on my topics and, as luck would have it, we actually led opposing rallies on the same day at least twice! There we were, in the same park, a married white couple pushing opposing views on Blacks. Will was surrounded by his fellow white males and females, while I surrounded myself with Black ralliers. And yet, at the end of the day, as much as we would lace into one another and eachother's views, we'd come home, eat dinner with the kids, make love at night, and sleep in the same bed.

Out of left field, however, that routine changed in an astonishing, yet completely brilliant way. Erikson and I had worked together a lot in the past few months. Long nights, even longer days. Our big push was that Blacks and white people are one-in-the-same. Sure, they had different skin color, but when it comes to skills, work ethic, and feelings, Blacks and whites are the same.

Erikson and I pushed this notion until it could be pushed no further, and we still didn't think it was doing enough. Black males continued to be scoffed at, prevented access to jobs, and limited in who they could date.

The dating issued always seemed to be Erikson's favorite to talk about; sex, sex, sex. Further proof all men are the same. Working with a strong, virile Black male had its advantages. Although I was married, the extra attention Erikson gave me definitely did not go unnoticed: the way he'd hug me longer than he'd hug others, his constant "I've got to squeeze by" type of moves, and his somewhat lazy eyes when it comes to my body. I was married, but these innocent happenings were OK with me.

Now it would be unfair for me to state that he was only the one notice the other person. I was around him so much I could help but notice him: his body, his mannerisms, and his overall demeanor. He was very pleasant to be around. He had some racist thoughts in his mind as well, but not to the degree of my husband. His body was the epitome of perfection: toned, tall, and looked rock hard. When I would hug him, I know I had squeezed a bit harder than normal. Maybe that's why he always hugged me for so long? One time he did one of his "squeeze by you" moves and I felt the shaft of his dick rub the back of my upper thigh and ass: I froze and let him pass just to get that innocent feel of it. We shared the occasional eye contact, but nothing that would be misconstrued as cheating or sex.

Our work was progressing and one day Erikson came to me with another of his radical ideas.

"You planning on having any more children Amy?" Erikson asked.

"Will and I weren't planning any. And we're so busy right now, we're not too concerned about one "surprising" us." I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Now we've been working together for sometime, and we've hit a roadblock on how to send the biggest message to the people that my people are no different than your people," he said.

I agreed.

"Well, I was thinking, what if the 2 races integrated a member of each race into their own?" Erikson asked. "Then we could show to the people that we're all alike and share a natural bond."

I likened to the idea bit and asked, "What do yo mean by integrate?"

With that he showed me a polaroid picture of a mixed race girl. She was extremely cute with her caramel skin and light brown hair. He told me she was the offspring of a white male and black female. He then left me with "Tell me what you think about it..." and let his eyes wander to my body and then he left the room.

Now I may have been raised in the South, but I tend to pick up on things quite quickly. Erikson was propositioning me into making love with him and carrying his child. I should've gotten whiff of the idea immediately, but my eyes were glued to the cute girl in the photo. Erikson was not married, had no children that I knew of, and I was probably the closest white woman he'd ever been near. Some of his racist thoughts were probably directed at my husband; as a way to get back at him and his white friends. Yet, as much as the thought had crossed my mind, I could in no way cheat on my husband.

As drove onto my street from work, I noticed a fire truck and ambulance on my driveway. I immediately pulled in and went inside. There, on a gurney, was my husband! He was being taken to a hospital. The doctors told me he had suffered a heart attack, but I know better. My Will was a strong man, he...he couldn't possibly have had that weak of a heart. I followed the ambulance to hospital and dropped the kids off at my mom's. Will died 2 hours later from heart failure. I was devastated to say the least. We buried him in the cemetery next to his family, which, oddly enough, was located near my father's grave as well.

1962

It had been eight months since Will died and I had gotten my life back together somewhat. Erikson had continued to drop hints about integrating "someone" from each race. I viewed it as this child would be like a poster child. A symbol for people everywhere to see and understand. The message was good, the procedure to get there was a tough and dangerous one.

At 32 years of age, I was not ready to stop living. I still looked good for my age, at least I and obviously Erikson thought so. Standing at 5'5" and being a petite 107 lbs., I could still turn a few heads. Even before bra burning was popular I had gotten rid of my 34 C bras as I felt more free and liberated. When Will was still alive I always wore conservative clothes to work; more in the line of a blouse and a longer skirt or slacks. However with Will gone and my body wanting to show off itself, low cut shirts and above-knee skirts found themselves throughout my closet.

I always knew Erikson checked me out. I bet he imagined how I looked naked. His eyes would linger more than normal on the days my shirt bared cleavage; I couldn't really blame him. My body was yearning for some attention. 8 months is a long time for a woman to be untouched. I tried casual dating, but it never evolve into anything. Erikson, on the other hand, kept bringing up the integrating subject.

"Amy, I heard of an interracial couple in Maine gave birth to their first son together," Erikson calmly said. "They were the talk of the hospital and town. Proud parents I tell ya."

"Well there you go. Why don't you call them and ask to have their son be used for our campaign?" I asked.

"That isn't going to work. To be most effective we need a children from our area. One that affects the residents of our city personally," retorted Erikson. His hand wandered down his sides and rested on his hip, my eyes followed briefly.

"I just don't know how to help you with that. You seem so caught up in getting this message across maybe you need to take the initiative and locate a woman yourself and integrate her," I replied, somewhat, barely on a tiny level, hoping his mind would link me to be that possible woman.

"Alright Amy, I'm just going to come out and say it. I want you and me, our bodies, soul, and being, to become one for one night in an attempt to bridge the gap between our races, and to show the world that below the color of our skin lies a human with the same functions as anyone else."

I was floored. I was surprised, yet glad it had happened. I stammered my words, felt like the wind had been taken out of me, and was so eager to reply my mouth went dry.

Erikson's hand reached up and cupped my left cheek. "I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you and I'd love to make love with you to better our society. I truly think it would be life changing on so many levels," said Erikson as he stared in my eyes.

If I hadn't been working with him for so long I would've called him out and said those were some sorry, cheesy lines. Yet my mind was calculating how right and correct he was in saying those things.

"I don't know what to say. There would be so many risks involved for the both of us. My family could be in danger. If it were to backfire, my career could be over," I said in a sincere, concerned voice. My body was urging me to accept. It wanted release. It wanted to be pleased again. My heart pounded. As I rose my left hand to touch his, my mind displayed the image I saw of my mother and her Black lover; I smiled. My hand connected with his and I nodded in the most minute of ways. He smiled slightly and nodded back.

"Thank you." was all he said as he left the office. I'd have 2 days to think this over before I'd see him again on Monday. Little did I know, two days was far too long for him to wait.

It was Saturday afternoon and I received a phone all from Erikson. He spoke to me in an upbeat, sweet kind of way.

"I want tonight to be the night. Meet me outside the "Blue Sax" club. Wear a skirt, I love your legs," he said on the phone, and promptly he hung up. He surely didn't give me an opportunity to say no. Not that I wanted to anyways.

With such short notice the only babysitter I could find was my mother. She agreed to watch my kids while I went out. Though she would be accepting of my "date," I didn't tell her who it was. I didn't want her mind to wander or be concerned with anything while she was with my kids. I didn't have a clean skirt available so I wore a light blue sun dress that barely covered my mid thigh. It was a low cut dress as well. I put my blond hair up in a sport type of bun. This was going to be the first time I got to get dolled up and show off since my husband died.

The "Blue Sax" was a jazz club of sorts located in the heart of the city. It was frequented by Blacks mostly. I was extremely nervous as I drove up and parked my car. Why had he wanted to take me here? I had figured we'd stay at my house or even his, have our night of passion, and hope for the best. The thought of him taking me to a "black" club had me curious. About 5 minutes after I had arrived, Erikson pulled up in his car. He must not have seen me as he went to the door and stood. He looked amazing and I immediately questioned why non-Black woman stayed away from Black men. He wore matching jacket and slacks, both dark olive green, and leather shoes. His face was perfectly groomed and hair recently cut. I got turned on just looking at him from a distance; knowing he and I would be connected soon.

I exited my car and quickly crossed the street. I came up to him and his eyes lit up. "Damn Amy, I knew you always looked good under those clothes, but God woman, you're strictly a beauty."

My face blushed, my chest heaved, and I walked a bit closer. "I was admiring you from the car myself," I replied.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek. It was so sweet and soft. I pressed my cheek against his lips in acceptance. I gave him my arm and he wrapped it under his. As we walked into the club all I could think of was how hard is arm felt against me. It was like granite.

We entered the smoke filled club ad the sounds of jazz filled the air. As expected, Erikson and I received many looks from other people there. To see an Black man with a white woman willingly in his arms was truly a sight to behold. We sat at the bar and the bartender asked us for drinks.

"Scotch," Erikson answered.

"And you ma'am?" asked the bartender.

"Oh just water," was my reply. I couldn't fathom drinking tonight.

"Amy, come on have something," Erikson told me.

"Erikson, you don't have to liquor me up tonight. We agreed tonight was going to be the night and I'm all yours. Liquor is not needed, honestly." I aid with a smile on my face. I placed a hand on his thigh and lightly squeezed. His thigh didn't give at all. Much like his arms, it was a rock. I shivered in delight.

"Indulge me Amy," he said casually.

I obliged and order a scotch as well. Though he may have thought I was his date tonight, he was truly my date. He and his people had been treated so wrongly by whites. I wanted to make tonight something he could be proud of.

He grinned back and adjusted himself on his stool. This motion moved my hand higher up his thigh without my doing so; I didn't pull back. We made small talk with one another and sipped our drinks. I'm not that strong of a drinker so that one drink got to me a bit. Our hands kept "accidentally" touching one another: his on my back and legs, mine on his hand and shoulder. He introduced me to some of his friends who came in. They all seemed shocked to see him with me, yet I always caught them whispering in his ear and giving him a "congratulatory" pat on the back. I couldn't fight the sense of pride I had in seeing this. Each smile on his face and each good word he said about me to his friends only made me more determined to make tonight as special as possible.

Now I'm not a big dancer, but when Will had wanted to danced I always did so. I wasn't going to ruin this night for Erikson so when he wanted to dance I immediately said yes.

"You just look at me and my eyes," whispered Erikson.

"But so many people are looking at us," I replied back to him, moving in closer.

"They're mesmerized. You have nothing to worry about. Many of these people know what we have planned. They kind of look up to us." Erikson's words were so reassuring to me. I placed my hand on the back of his head and kept the other on his shoulder.

Erikson was definitely a better dancer than Will ever was. He had a way of pacing his hands on different parts of my body so quickly and smoothly. I loved every touch, every glance, and I completely loved every soft kiss he planted on my cheek and ear.

"I haven't been touched in this way since my husband was alive. It's like you're clearing out the cobwebs or something," I cooed this in his ear and gently licked his earlobe. I felt his hands tighten on my back.

"I plan on clearing out a few other things tonight. We're not just doing this for you and I, we're doing this for everyone in this room." Erikson said matter-of-factly. His directness and confidence turned me on even more.

I looked into his dark eyes, discreetly slid a hand over the front of his slacks, and sweetly asked, "Can we start helping everyone in here right now?" I left my hand over his groin and felt what every Black male myth was all about. It was harder than his arms or thighs, pulsed with lust, and was straining against his pants. Even though I was getting hot, the air that went up the bottom of my dress felt cold against my now wet pussy.

"Yes ma'am," was all he could muster.

I kissed his cheek, squeezed his groin, and said "Thank you."