Would It Make You Happy?
I saw her standing in line at the coffee shop and to my eyes she was a perfect goddess. Having recently turned twenty-four, she stood just short of six feet in medium heels. Her beautiful dark chocolate complexion was enhanced by a wide, generous mouth that was framed by plump, kissable lips. Her lovely dark eyes spoke volumes of her hidden dreams and desires. Her ravishing torso was topped by sizable breasts and her sexy butt rode high on her back, yet tapered into toned dancer's legs. In short, she was Ebony perfection. More importantly, I had done my homework on her. This was not an impulse selection as some of my earlier ones were. She was a brilliant woman with a vibrant personality, but was trapped in a life she hated. Still, she was her own person, not someone I would need to groom to become what I had lost. She was perfect the way she was. She had to be, because she also represented my last chance.
It would be a challenge. Even with the extraordinary gift given to me, it was perhaps an insurmountable one. There were rules I had to follow for this to work. I knew this because of the many mistakes I had made to this point: All twenty-nine of them. Now, this was it. I was hopeful, but it was going to be a long shot. This white guy almost ten years her senior was going to attempt the impossible: I was going to make her mine without ruining her or likely live without true love for the rest of my life.