The Principal's Turn - Surrender

Taisha quickly realized that Liz was already jumping to the worst conclusion. Maggie asked her and she said yes. It was that simple. There was no short cutting on Taisha's part. And what business was it of hers, anyway, wondered Taisha.

"I know the perfect candidate for Mr. Cheswick's class, and he has paid his dues," Liz said, loud enough for a couple of the other teachers to hear.

Taisha was very frustrated and did not want to let those comments go unchallenged in front of others. "I did not solicit that job, Ms. Richards. I was talking to her on other matters and she asked since I was right there, and I accepted. It's just that simple."

"Thanks, then I'll point out her oversight. I'll make sure Principal Turner is aware of her omission of seniority protocols." She left the teachers' lounge.

The other teachers looked uncomfortable, not sure what they had just heard or if they could even believe Liz Richards. Either way, Taisha felt the seed had been planted: Taisha Smith gets special treatment.

Taisha stewed for the rest of the day, wondering if she had accidentally caused a problem for Principal Turner. She tried to get in to see her during her breaks, but she had locked herself away in the office, prepping for the council meeting.

Taisha was home by Four and had the place to herself, so she put on a red bikini and decided to have a little pool time. She was not a great swimmer anymore, but with a full-sized lap pool in the back yard, she really wanted to take advantage of the free exercise opportunity.

Not to mention, Ms. Turner told her that she gets up at 5:30AM some mornings to do laps, so this could be another chance to make a connection with her.

She struggled to make one length of the pool and had to stop to catch her breath. Her goal, she thought, was a reasonable start of four lengths. She hadn't swum in over ten years, other than a spring break in mobile, but that was nothing like lap swimming.

She finished four with a five-minute break between each lap. As she caught her breath, she was startled by Sam sitting in a lounge chair watching her. "Impressive, Miss Smith, is there anything you can't do?" he smiled.

His smile was creepy for lack of a better word. She had a sense when it came to older white men, and the pervert vibe oozed from every pore of his body.

Smiling as best she could, she thanked him, "Thanks, Mr. Turner, I had lessons at the Y when I was six and swam on the team for a year. But that was a long time ago."

She had left her towel on the lounge chair, but he was standing next to it now. She thought that he had planned that well. Between the little bitch Ms. Richards and now Sammy the handsy, she was at her limit of bullshit for the day.

She climbed out and walked with confidence to retrieve her towel. When she stood up, his eyes ogled her body like a horny teenager. At that moment, she decided she was going to torture the horny bastard every chance she got.

Sam's heart raced at the sight of Taisha in her bikini. Her full round breasts bulged out the sides of the red triangle of her string bikini. The bright red popped next to her dark skin. Her nipples were at full attention, and her areolas peeked through the wet material. Her arms were toned and smooth and her stomach smooth and flat with a round innie belly button.

As his eyes moved down, he could see a hint of her dark triangular bush through the thin wet fabric. Her legs were solid and toned and her skin shimmered in the sunlight. She moved into the space between the chairs.

Standing next to him, her legs seemed to go on forever. Her thighs were considerably bigger than Maggie's. Her ebony skin looked silky smooth. Sam almost trembled, resisting the urge to touch her. The profile of her curved back and firm round ass got his hard-on growing fast.

Taisha turned toward the pool and bent down to dry her legs, giving him a great view of her ass. He moaned audibly and cleared his throat to mask it. The material tucked into her ass crack and revealed a bit of a camel toe below. He was sure she was flirting with him but needed to be careful.

Taisha turned it up a notch and while bent over, she looked back between her legs and smiled. Sam was imagining tracing his finger down her ass crack and over the camel toe. He jerked suddenly, shocked when he caught Taisha looking at him, realizing he had been busted for staring at her most private parts.

He looked toward the house. "The reason I came out was to ask if you would like to join me for dinner. I'm making my specialty, beef stew. But I just found out Maggie will be supping with Council Chairman Wallace and some of his lackeys this evening. I hate dining alone and the recipe feeds eight."

She stood up and turned toward him. He fought to keep his eyes up but could not help looking at the bikini bottom. The dark little bush, taunted him, making him wonder how her pussy would taste.

"Can I trust you, Mr. Turner?" she grinned.

Looking up at her smiling, he lost himself again. Her lips were full and dark, contrasted against her bright white teeth. He had to close his eyes as he imagined what it would feel like to have those lips sliding over his stiff dick.

"What do you mean, Taisha?" he asked innocently. "Why would you think you can't trust me?"

"I can see the way you look at me, Mr. Turner..." She looked at the ground, feigning coyness.

He stood up, looking nervous. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, it was not my intent. It's just, you're very beautiful and... I... I should just shut up now. You don't have to feel pressured for dinner. I was not trying to come on to you..." He was fidgeting and swaying, realizing he was getting himself in deeper with each second.

"It's okay, Mr. Turner, I sometimes overreact. It's just..." She looked deep in thought. "You'd be surprised how many older white men... I'm not saying you're old..." She looked at him and smiled. "We're not communicating too well, are we?"

Relieved she broke the tension, he worked to save himself. "Taisha, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intent." He felt like he was standing way too close and was terrified she would notice his semi boner despite the fact it was now retreating. He took two large steps back as he spoke, "I understand if you don't want to... Let's just save dinner for a night when Maggie is here."

Taisha felt a great victory in the battle against the bull shit of the day but sensed a chance to take his torture a step further. "You know Sam, (She grinned on the inside using his first name.) I can't begin to repay you and your wife. I, uh, I'm sorry if I, sometimes, I am so cynical. You're not like other men, you and your wife have been so kind to me. I've grown up in an environment where, if someone was nice, they expected something in return. We are both adults and we both love your wife. We should be able to have dinner together without feeling awkward. What time should I be ready?"

"About an hour," said Sam with an apprehensive smile.

As he was getting dinner ready, his mind bounced from relief to excitement to confusion with an occasional hint of guilt. Taisha was a mystery he could not figure out. Was she flirting and acknowledging interest in him or was she letting him know she wasn't interested in another curious older white guy wondering what it would be like to tap a hot young black woman?

He knew marrying a strong-minded career woman was going to be a challenge. She had other needs and interest outside of him. That's why he occasionally had to find avenues to fulfill his own needs when he was on the road. But, never this close to home. He could not risk it. She was friends with Maggie, and it would not end well. "Decision made... Hands off," he said aloud.

Ten seconds later, the thought of touching that ebony ass consumed him. It quickly morphed into the image of fucking Taisha in that tight round ass. Two firsts in one. First black woman and first anal, he thought, oblivious to the "decision" he had made one minute earlier.

He set the places at the dining room table, his at the head and hers to the right. After opening a bottle of red wine, he filled two glasses. When she knocked at the kitchen sliding door, he nearly shot his load in his pants.

Taisha had on a pair of form fitting powder blue sports yoga pants with a white, grey and black rose flower pattern that resembled charcoal art work. It had a black four-inch-high waist band with four shimmering gold strips going around her waist. The top of the band dipped just below her dark belly button and curved up as it carried around her hips.

Her top - if you could call it a top - was a bright white form fitting low cut tank top that looked more like a sports bra than a top. It hugged her body with an elastic strip about an inch and a half wide below her breasts. It was low cut in front and pushed her full breasts together and up as if they could burst free at any minute. Sam's mouth hung hopelessly agape. He was oblivious to the fact his eyes were glued to her tits.

Taisha's smile widened when she saw how sadly he tried to act normal. She thought about throwing out the old cliché. "My eyes are up here."

He walked to the door and slid it open. "Come in, Ms. Smith," he said, trying to sound composed.

Taisha wanted to get the full effect and stepped quickly past him, with a little extra strut in her step giving him a full view of her backside.

Sam gasped at the sight. A seam ran down the middle of the yoga pant, drawing the material deep into her crack. To further highlight her beautiful butt. There were small rectangular pockets on the top half of either cheek that Sam immediately wanted to slide his hands into. The pockets seemed to have been made with a patch of the flowered material with horizontal pleats that carried across her ass to both pockets. The pleats were drawn in tighter at the center seam, further highlighting her gorgeous ass and forming a butterfly pattern.

He wanted to feel that ass so badly and let his hand follow that ass crack on down between her legs.

The top captured his gaze as well. It was higher cut between shoulder straps but had a large oval opening in the center that was crisscrossed by small rolls of the white fabric that formed a Y in the center of the oval. There was something incredibly sexy about that oval of exposed black skin.

She drew satisfaction from his silence and reveled in the thought of torturing the horny little letch. Sam wanted to kiss his way around that oval and...

"Dinner smells delicious Sa, I mean, Mr. Turner." She smiled and sat down, setting a small gift bag on the table.

Her lips were shimmering with lip gloss and he wondered how they would taste, before his eyes zeroed in on those bulging breasts. The top actually dipped below her nipple level and he could see her black silver dollar sized areola peeking through the top just below the shoulder strap. He thought he could just separate those straps about an inch and kiss her nipples stiff.

Sam swallowed hard trying not to stare but could not help it. Her breasts curved inward from the top, converging into a dark line that faded into the tip of the bright white V. He wanted to bury his face in there and feel her warmth. It was remarkable to him that her skin seemed to shimmer everywhere on her body.

"Please, call me, Sam," he said softly.

"Okay, Sam. Cheers." She downed her whole glass of wine.

"Cheers." He took a sip and she looked at him disappointedly. Then she nodded her head to encourage him to down it. He did and she leaned forward resting on an elbow, enhancing his view as she filled the glasses. Sam downed a second glass before serving dinner and she filled him with the rest of the bottle.

"All done," she said in her school girl flirting voice.

Sam opened another and began to feel very confident in himself and the situation. By the end of dinner, they opened number three and he had no idea she was on her second glass and he was on his sixth. Taisha kept her glass going to her mouth frequently but just wet her lips each time.

She filled his glass again, pushed her chair back and turned to face him. This gave him a view of her exposed belly and that dark mysterious belly button that begged for his tongue. Taisha grinned at the horny bastard's helpless wandering eyes.

"I have something for you, Sam," she said, reaching into the gift bag.

He watched in anticipation as she pulled out a wood carving in mahogany of a black man in a tall pointed hat. He sat knees to his chest and hands on knees, with big eyes and a bigger smile. His face was stretched, and his cheekbones were huge, in line with the angle of his hat. He looked very phallic, causing Sam to think about bending her over the table and fucking her doggy style while she sucked it like a cock.

"Who is it?" he asked staring at her glossy lips.

"This is Eshu, God of Virility. I thought it fitting for a man who would soon be starting a family."

Sam watched as she slowly stroked the statue like she was stroking a cock. "You are being naughty, Ms. Smith."

"I am pretty obvious, aren't I. I think the wine has gotten the better of me. I apologize, but I admit I'm flattered by the attention. With my travels and now the new job, it's been a whirlwind and I haven't had time for a personal life. Of course, we both know nothing can happen, but we can enjoy the attention a little, can't we?" She handed him the statue.

"Of course, we can," said Sam, knowing it would be a matter of time. She wanted him and now that he was sure, he would find a way to break down her defenses. He held the god of virility with pride and a hard-on to prove his worthiness.

Taisha smiled inside as she handed him Eshu. He was actually the trickster god, but she knew he would never be curious enough to research the name.

"So, what would the curious white man want to know about African women? We've had some wine to loosen our tongues, this is your chance. Ask me anything and I will answer."

Sam leaned back in his chair, not sure if this was a trap or it was for real. She pulled the bands from her pony tail and let her straightened hair hang down in back, sending the signal this was real.

"Is it true black men don't like eating pussy?"

She smiled. "A bold first question, Mr. Turner. Not really a question about black women. I will answer this one though." She thought for a moment. "There is some truth to that, but many who say they don't to their friends, actually do when they are with their ladies. And black women do like it." She smiled.

Sam thought about dropping to the floor and...

"I work with a black guy who told me black women do what they are told in bed. Is that true?" he asked half cringing.

"I would answer that, absolutely not true. I would say they are more willing to do what it takes to please their man, but on their own terms."

Sam was loving this. He had never met an African American woman he could talk to like this. He was feeling more at ease and emboldened. The image of her ass in the bikini and yoga pants was planted in his mind.

"I heard black women are open to anal sex..." He stopped unsure how to finish.

Taisha smiled. "Mr. Turner, you are kinky. I can only speak for myself and a few friends who I have talked to. I would say that generally speaking they are more receptive than white women. My personal experience has been mixed. One partner understood if you want to use my ass as a pussy, you need to treat it like a pussy first. In that instance, it was... enjoyable."

He was not sure what that meant, but the realization that she would let him fuck that beautiful ass someday was all he needed. "So, what do you mean by treating it like a pussy first?"

"You white guys like to eat pussy before you fuck it, right?" Her eyes widened to emphasize the point. "Mr. Turner, you are full of surprises," she said, stroking the pervert's ego. "What else would you like to ask?"

"May I touch your hair?" he asked, knowing that was a sensitive topic from what he had heard.

"I think we should draw the line at touching. We both know if we cross that line even a little, there will be no turning back."

"I understand," he said calmly. He was willing to be very patient in his plan to wear down her defenses. "You mentioned it has been a while since you've had 'attention'. There are ways to achieve satisfaction without touching."

"What do you have in mind, Sam?"

"We could Skype."

She looked at him thinking. "Sam, that seems... over the line." We should probably call it a night, before we do something we may regret. Goodnight Mr. Turner, thank you for dinner. It was delicious."

As she walked toward the slider, he struggled for words, but could not find them. Had he misread her? Had he offended her?...

"Good Night Taisha," he said looking scared.

Taisha flashed a devious grin, turned back an blew him a kiss as she walked out.

"She wanted to!" He told himself.

Across town, Maggie sat at dinner with Councilman Wallace to celebrate a successful meeting. They had managed to get the funding plan on the ballot, which in itself was a victory, but to get any tax voted in, in the state of Arkansas was a whole new level of difficult.

Despite having butted heads with the councilman in the past, she was really impressed with his genuine concern on this matter. He truly understood the importance of the students in Little Rock keeping up with technology. They strategized the campaign and lined up Maggie for several appearances. He also wanted her to appear in some television commercials.

It was a long day, but Maggie felt wide awake when she got home at 11:30PM. She found the open bottle of wine in the fridge poured a glass and noticed the light on in the RV. She watched through the slider and contemplated having the talk with Taisha. She needed to do it soon.

As she sipped her wine, her mind replayed how she felt during the massage and how Taisha seemed to sense exactly where and how to touch her. Only one finger...

Maggie snapped herself out of it and got ready for bed. When she climbed in, Sam was sleeping like a baby and didn't stir. She thought about waking him as that itch was coming back, but she did not have the heart to disturb such a sound sleep.

Thursday morning, Taisha woke early and watched as Maggie came down for her morning laps. She had on a one-piece black speedo that contrasted with her pale skin. Maggie's family had a history of skin cancer, so she was careful not to expose herself to the sun. Her aunt Ellen died of melanoma at 37.

Taisha admired her slender toned figure as she tucked her hair under a bathing cap. Her nipples were at attention atop her 35C breasts. Her neck was long and slender as she pictured stepping in behind her and kissing it softly.

Maggie put on her goggles and dove in. Taisha poured a cup of coffee and went to a lounge chair poolside. She watched as Maggie swam, eyes drawn to her tight little butt. It swayed side to side protruding slightly form the water. When Maggie did a flip turn in front of her, she couldn't help noticing that cute butt and the image of her labia outlined through the lycra material.

She watched and downed her coffee. Maggie was such a good swimmer; it squelched the thought of joining her. She would have to get herself in better swim shape first if she ever wanted to keep up.

Maggie enjoyed her swim time. It gave her a chance to unwind and think without the outside world's clutter. This morning, her thoughts turned to Taisha. She played through "the talk" in her mind. Planning her arguments and needing to tread carefully. The bottom line, if it ever came out was Maggie would be guilty of sexual harassment by any reasonable standard. Even though she clearly wasn't the aggressor, a jury would only see she was the boss and Taisha her subordinate.