Chapter 1

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, Oral Sex, Slow, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - "Aja" is a story about interracial romance. Jason Brown, a white broadcast engineer meets Aja Morgan, a pretty and talented Black gospel singer, during a radio assignment. Jason soon is falling in love with Aja and he senses the feeling is mutual. However, Aja must overcome trauma and prejudice before she can admit her true feelings for him.

Referring to directions written on a yellow legal pad Jason navigated the unfamiliar streets. He drove past dilapidated storefronts with bars on their windows and grates on their doors. Nearly every wall was covered with layers of graffiti.

He found Lucas Street and made a turn. Halfway down the block he saw the sign for the Lucas Street AME Church. It was an unassuming structure repurposed from an abandoned supermarket.

Jason parked on the street. He stepped into the church and spotted an older Black man wearing a royal blue kaftan. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m from the radio station.”

“You’re not our regular radio man,” came the reply.

“I’m filling for Ralph,” Jason explained. “He’s on medical leave.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” the pastor replied.

“He had a hernia repaired. We expect him to be back next month for your service broadcast. If you can show me where to set up my equipment...”

“This way, son...” The pastor led Jason through the sanctuary. He regarded a choir loft equipped with microphones, an old Hammond B3 electric organ, synthesizers, a drum set and a studio-grade audio mixing board. Behind the altar was an office. “Ralph sets up in here.”

Jason surveyed the room. “There’s an internet connection...”

“Over here. You can talk to Derrick about the hookup. He’s our music director.”

“I’ll bring in my gear, then.” Jason headed back to his car. From the trunk he removed a case and a laptop computer. These he carried into the office. He removed a power strip and plugged it into a wall receptacle. Into this he plugged a remote broadcast mixer, a four-port router and the laptop computer.

He powered up the laptop and checked the network connections. Then he took his cell phone and placed a call.

WNLX Radio came the answer.

“Jon -- it’s Jason.”

Jason -- you made it there safe and sound?

“Yeah, I found the place. I wouldn’t want to have a flat tire in this part of town.”

Too bad Ralph couldn’t wait a week for his surgery. Next week’s church remote is at Trinity.

“Nicer neighborhood than this. I’m just hoping my rims will still be here when I’m done. Okay -- I’m all booted up here -- let’s see if we can get connected.” He manipulated the keyboard on his laptop. “Looks like I’m in.”

I see you. Let’s do a bandwidth check...

Jason watched a window on his laptop. “Looks good -- we can go full broadband.” He made settings on the mixer board.

Try the board.

Jason plugged a microphone into an input. “Testing, testing...”

We’re good. About half an hour to airtime.

“I need to track down some dude named Derrick for a hookup. You ought to see the layout they have here, Jon. These folks take this stuff seriously.”

Ralph has some tales to tell. I’ll keep you up on audition ‘til airtime.

“Okay Jon. See you at the station in a couple of hours.” He cancelled the call and poked his head out of the door. He saw a younger, lanky Black man standing over the church’s mixer board.

“Hi,” he said, approaching him. “I’m Jason from WNLX Radio...”

“I’m Derrick.”

“I need to know how to hook up...”

Derrick unspooled an audio cable, leading into the office behind the altar. “Plug in with this.”

“Okay...” Jason plugged the cable into his mixer board. “Can I get a level check?”

“Sure bro.” He called toward a woman sitting at the Hammond organ sorting through sheet music. “Thelma -- a few bars.”

She played some arpeggios and snatches of tunes as Jason adjusted line levels. “That’s good.”

“You won’t need to ride the gain,” Derrick said, “I’ll keep it level on my end.”

“Okay, good,” Jason replied.

Derrick pointed to a multi-ganged switch plate on the wall. “This switch on the end -- flip it up when we go on the air. It lights a light for me and the pastor.”

“Got it.”

Jason checked his watch. He could hear the congregation filing in. The time ticked closer to airtime and he placed another call to the station. Thelma began playing a prelude on the organ.

In five ... four ... three ... two ... one... Jon counted down. And, live.

Jason flipped the switch. He put on headphones and watched the VU meters on his board.


... and cut, Jon said over Jason’s cell. He flipped down the switch on the wall.

“Good one?” Jason asked.

It should hold ‘em ‘til next month.

“Then it’ll be Raphie’s headache. See you in a bit, buddy.” He cancelled the call and began taking down his remote equipment and packing it into the case.

Derrick stepped into the office and began coiling up his audio cable. “Hey -- great service,” Jason remarked. “That’s one soloist you have.”

“Yeah -- Aja. She’s real good.”

“Asia?” Jason repeated.

“It’s A - J - A ... Aja.”

“Like the Steely Dan album.”

“Yeah -- like that.”

Jason carried his gear to his car, loaded it into the trunk and then sat behind the wheel. He turned the key. His motor turned over once and died. Oh, shit! he thought and popped his hood. Stepping out he lifted the hood and wiggled the cables on his battery.

“Not a good part of town to be broke down, is it?” Jason looked up and saw a statuesque Black woman standing on the sidewalk. He regarded her. She appeared to be in her late twenties and wore a knee-length, tight-fitting red dress with a slit halfway up her thigh and carrying a red envelope purse. Her red heels added inches to her five-foot-eight frame so she towered over him. Her raven hair was up in a twist and a small, pillbox hat sat askance on her head.

“Battery’s dead,” he remarked. “I think the headlights were on.”

“Why have ‘em on in the daylight?” she asked, her voice soft with just a hint of an urban accent.

“With this car they’re always on -- running lights they call it. They’re supposed to go off with the ignition but sometimes something sticks and they stay on. Then I have to wiggle the key to make ‘em go off. I’m going to call and see if I can get a boost.” He took out his cell and placed the call. “No answer ... I’ll try again in a bit. I’m Jason, by the way. Jason Brown.”

“I’m Aja -- Aja Morgan,” she replied.

“Aja. You’re the soloist. Derrick told me your name. You have one heck of a voice, Aja.”

“Thank you ... You were at the service?”

“I’m with WNLX Radio. I was doing the remote.”

“You’re not the regular radio guy.”

“No -- Ralph is out sick. I’m filling in for him.”

She extended her hand and he grasped it. “I am real pleased to meet you, Jason.”

“Let me try my pal again.” He placed another call and again got no answer.

“Maybe I can help you out,” she said. “My uncle Oscar lives near here. Maybe he can come and give you a boost.” She took her cell from her handbag and placed a call. “Hey, Uncle O -- it’s me. There’s the guy from the radio station here and he needs a boost. Dead battery.” She listened and then addressed Jason. “You got cables?”

“Yes I have cables.”

“Yes, he has cables. Right on the corner of Lucas by the church. Thanks Uncle O.” She slipped her cell into her bag. “I’ll stay here with you ‘til he comes. Nobody will hassle you if they see me with you.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jason leaned against his car. “Aja -- you have such a lovely voice. You ought to try out for American Idol.”

“No. I’m not interested in that.”

“I’m sure you could make some money with your talent. Did you ever do any recording? Make a demo disc?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I could help you with that. You could come to the radio station and I could record you there ... burn it into demo discs. We have all the equipment ... I mean, it’s not a full-blown recording studio but for someone singing acapella it’s more than adequate. I mean ... we don’t have the absolute latest technology ... no auto-tune...”

“Derrick has auto-tune. I don’t use it in the church, I wouldn’t want to use it in the studio.”

“Your church has auto-tune?”

“A couple of our other soloists use it. I think it’s a crutch.”

“Yeah -- I think it does make you sound over-processed. What do you say, Aja? It’s the least I could do to repay you for your kindness.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds interesting. I’ve always wanted to try something like that. I have a day job, Jason.”

“I normally work second shift -- three to eleven. After the six o’clock news the station switches over to automated. So, if you have a free evening...”

“You’re sure it’d be all right?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“Tuesday?” she asked.

“I work Tuesday. Any time after seven. Do you know where the station is?”

“I sure do. I ride the bus past it every day to work.”

He took a card from his wallet and wrote a number on the back. “This is the direct line to the radio control room. Call it from your cell when you’re outside. I’ll come down and let you in.”

“Okay, Jason. I’ll see you Tuesday. Here’s Uncle Oscar now.”

Jason watched a new, white Chrysler 300 pull up. The driver jockeyed the car so it was parked, nose-to-nose with his.

Jason opened his trunk and removed his set of jumper cables.


The phone in the control room rang and Jason picked it up. “WNLX Radio...”

Jason -- it’s Aja. I’m out front.

“I’ll be right out.”

He made a quick scan of the equipment in the control room and then headed to the main entrance. Unlocking the door he opened it and Aja stepped inside. “I’ve never been in a radio station,” she remarked.

Jason re-locked the front door. “We have television, and AM and FM radio, all under this roof.” She followed him up a flight of stairs. “Down there are the television studios,” he said pointing through glass partitions. “That’s the news set.”

“I recognize it.”

“The other studio is used for locally produced commercials and the like.” He escorted her through a room with windows overlooking the studios and banks of equipment. “This is the television control room. There’s another control room over there so we can be running both studios simultaneously. Back here is radio where I work.”

Jason led her into the radio control room. “This is our radio Control Room A, where we run everything. Our FM station is automated, twenty-four seven. The AM station features talk radio during the day. We start at five in the morning with Deacon Jones’s show -- ag report and such for the farm community. Then at seven we have the morning news, followed by talk programming ‘til six in the evening. Then it’s the six o’clock evening news and after that we simulcast the FM music programming ‘til five the next day. Of course on Saturdays we simulcast the music all day. The AM simulcast differs only in station breaks and some commercials -- and we go to the network for news on the hour. On Sundays we have the church remotes on both AM and FM.”

“It’s all very interesting,” Aja remarked.

“Here’s the robot -- the automated system for music. It’s all digital on hard drives. This screen shows what we’ve played and what’s upcoming. The programming department works it all out weeks in advance. The second half of my shift is pretty boring -- all I do is watch the displays for trouble.”

A gray-haired man walked through the control room toward the television area. “Hello, Jason,” he said.

“Jake -- this is Aja Morgan. Aja -- this is Jacob Michaels.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“You’re the news anchor,” she replied. “I am very pleased to meet you in person. I watch you every night.”

Jake smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. If you’ll excuse me.” He headed into the television control room.

“So,” Aja said, “what’s the first half of your shift like?”

“Quite a bit busier. We record the six o’clock news at four. Jake’s quite an anchor, but even he can’t be two places at once.” He led her into a studio. “This is where we run our talk shows.”

Aja scanned the room. “It’s a big studio.”

“This part of the building was built in the forties. Back then we had real, live radio. That lasted into the early seventies, believe it or not. We had a live band and a variety show with lots of microphones, plus transcription gear, turntables, tape machines and an announcer in a separate booth. Engineers in those days had their hands full. I thought you could do your singing here.” He gestured toward a desk with a microphone and pulled out a chair for her.

“I can’t sing sitting down. I’d prefer a hand-held mic.”

“That’s no problem.” Jason stepped into a storage room and returned with a hand-held microphone and a stand. He plugged the cord into a jack on the wall. Stepping into the control room he patched the microphone into his mixer board. Through the window separating the control room from the studio he gestured to a pair of headphones on the desk.

Aja slipped them on. Jason pressed the talkback button on the panel and spoke into a microphone. “Try out the mic,” he said.

She hummed a bit to find her pitch and then sang part of a gospel song. Jason manipulated controls to set the level. “You sound great,” he said. “Want to try a take?”

“Okay. I’ll sing Swing Low.”

“I’ll cue you when we’re rolling.” He worked a keyboard and watched a computer monitor. He lifted his finger and pointed to her.

Aja began singing and Jason remembered her from the church remote. He regarded her through the window as she sang. She had arrived wearing a denim skirt that came a few inches above her knee and a white blouse. She had slender but shapely legs and wore tall platform shoes that accentuated the curves in her calves. Tonight, her coarse, black hair was tied in a ponytail and extended past her shoulder blades.

Jason regarded her face -- oval-shaped with broad forehead, high cheekbones, dark eyes and a broad nose. She had a prominent mouth and full, dark lips. Her complexion was the color of Hershey’s milk chocolate.

She concluded her song. Jason stopped the recording. “Very nice,” he said through the talkback. “Want to listen?”

“Okay...”

He threw some switches and began the playback. Aja put one hand to the headphones and closed her eyes. “It’s odd hearing a recording of yourself,” she said.

“I think you nailed it in one take. Do you have a couple more you’d like to try?”

“I hadn’t thought too much about it.” She rolled her eyes in thought. “I got one -- People Get Ready.”

Jason set up for another recording and gave her his cue. Aja starting singing her tune and interrupted herself. “Crap,” she said. “I screwed up.”

“Not a problem -- I’ll just reset the recording.” He cued her again and this time she sang through to the end of the song.

“Another keeper,” Jason remarked through the talkback.

“There’s a duet I used to sing with my sister,” she said. “Can we record one part and then back up and record the other?”

“Absolutely -- though it’s trickier than you might think.” Jason made some adjustments to his settings and cued her.

She began snapping her fingers near the microphone and started singing. “Cut!” Jason said through the talkback. He stepped into the studio. “Snap into this mic,” he said, adjusting one of the desk mounted ones. “I’ll put it on a separate track.”

“Okay.”

He stepped back into the control room and cued her.

Aja began snapping her fingers and singing. She finished the song. “That worked better,” she said.

“Ready for the second part?” Jason asked.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a tambourine, would you?” she asked.

“A tambourine? Let me look in the props closet.” He stepped into the studio and opened a door. “Let’s see ... castanets ... here.” He handed her the instrument.

“Awesome,” she replied.

Jason returned to the control room.

“Ready.”

He cued her again, playing her first track into her and mixing it with the live mic. This time she drummed her fingers on the tambourine in a syncopated rhythm and began singing. “No,” she said and Jason stopped the recording. “Can you just put the snapping and the first part into the headphones? Hearing the mic is distracting me.”

“Certainly.” He cued her again. She began drumming and singing.

“That was amazing,” he said to her once she had finished. Come in and we can do a final mix-down.”

Aja stood behind him as he manipulated the keyboard and controls. “This doesn’t sound like a gospel number,” he remarked.

“Oh, it isn’t. It’s called Iko Iko and it’s a song my sister and I used to goof around with.”

“Maybe you should have your sister come in and do a real duet.”

“She passed away a few years back.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“She had a problem with drugs...”

“Overdose?” he asked.

“No. She was stabbed in a deal gone bad.”

Jason winced. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Aja.”

“She always was the black sheep of the family.”

Jason listened using the headphones. “This sounds really good,” he said. “I must say I was impressed with the layout at your church. I was a bit apprehensive driving into that part of town but everyone there was warm and welcoming.”

“It’s not a good part of town,” she replied, “but it is a good congregation. I’ve been going there ever since I was a little girl. I started singing in the girls’ choir, then the youth choir and then the main choir. I owe it all to Derrick. He’s a great musical director and a great voice coach.”

He took a blank CD and dropped it into a drive. “We’ll make a master CD for you. Do you have a computer where you can copy this?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You can also turn them into MP3s and put them on an iPod.” He typed commands to begin burning the disc. “Do you have a Facebook page?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You could create one and put MP3s on it. That would be a good way to get some exposure. Or, consider You Tube...”

Aja’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said and answered the call. “Hello? Hi Lorelei ... WHAT?” She listened. “Oh, my GOD!” She listened more. “Okay -- I’ll wait for your call or text. Thanks, Lorelei.” She regarded him. “That was my neighbor Lorelei. There’s a hostage situation in my neighborhood. Some fugitive busted into a home and is holding the family hostage. They’ve got everyone down in their basements and have closed off the streets. Nobody can come or go.”

“The ten o’clock news is coming up,” he said. “You can step into the television control room and see what they say about it. I can’t leave this equipment alone for that length of time.”

“I’ll go see what they say.” He watched her step through the door.

Jason removed the newly burned CD from the drive. With a marker he wrote on it, Aja Morgan Demo Master. He slipped it into an empty jewel case.

He put away the tambourine, hand-held microphone and stand and rearranged the studio for the morning shows. Then he scanned the displays and checked transmitter readings.

Aja returned to his side. “Sure enough,” she said. “They say they have the SWAT team there and the negotiators and they’re preparing for a long night. The news chopper is overhead ... I have no place to go -- I can’t go home.”

“Gee, Aja. I’m sorry -- if I hadn’t kept you here, you might be home by now.”

“Yeah, cowering in my basement.”

“You have no place to go?”

“I can try calling my uncle...” She keyed her cell and held it to her ear. “No answer. He might be in bed already -- he has to work early.”

“Would you like to hang at my place? Maybe they’ll get the situation resolved.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“I don’t know what else to suggest.”

“I’ll accept your hospitality, Jason.”

“We can go as soon as Roger shows up.”

“Who’s Roger?”

“He takes the third shift.”

Aja regarded her cell phone. “Lorelei said she’d call or text with any updates.”

Another engineer dressed in black stepped into the control room. “Hi, Jason.”

“Hi, Roger.” He gestured toward Aja. “This is Aja Morgan.”

“Hello...”

“This is Roger my cohort.” He dated and signed a clipboard and handed it to Roger.

“Got it, man,” Roger remarked as he scanned the figures on the log.

Jason turned to Aja. “Shall we go?”

Aja picked up her purse and followed Jason to the parking lot. “Do you have a car?” he asked.

“No -- I rode the bus here.”

“Then you get to ride with me to my place.” He opened up his car and she sat in the passenger seat. “It’s not far from here...” He drove toward an apartment complex. Glancing toward her he saw she was sitting with her head bowed and her eyes closed.

Jason parked the car. “Here we are,” he said and led her into his unit.

“It’s getting awfully late,” she remarked as she set down her purse. “I’m usually asleep by now.”

“Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“Oh ... Yes, that might be nice ... help me relax.”

“If you need to, you can stay here for the night. That sofa folds out into a bed.” He heated milk in his microwave and handed her a mug.

She sipped from hers. “Mmm ... Very nice. You’ve been so kind tonight, Jason. Thank you.”

“Have you had problems like this in your neighborhood in the past?” he asked.

“No. Never.”

He sipped from his mug. “Maybe if you get that demo disc in the right hands, you can afford to move to a nicer neighborhood.”

“Oh, I don’t live in a bad neighborhood,” she replied. “I live in Woodland Hills.”

“You live in Woodland Hills?”

“Yes. That’s what makes this incident so disturbing. We’re not supposed to have problems like this.”

“Aja ... You said you have a day job. What is it that do you do for a living?”

“I’m an ophthalmologist.”

“An eye doctor...”

“That’s right. I’m a junior partner at Eye Associates.”

Jason felt his cheeks warming. The fact he was blushing embarrassed him further and soon he felt as if his face was glowing. “You must make more than I do ... I’m sorry, Aja. Here I thought I was helping some inner-city girl.”

“I am an inner-city girl at heart,” she replied. “It’s where I grew up ... It’s all right, Jason. I had a wonderful time. I’ve always wanted to try recording some songs. You were so attentive to me, and I’ve never been inside a radio or T.V. station. I’ll cherish the experience.”

“I do think you should go somewhere with your singing.”

“I do -- every Sunday.”

“I mean a broader audience. You could be on the radio. You could go on tour. You are that good.”

“Thank you.” Aja finished her cocoa. She yawned. “This is putting me to sleep.” She checked her cell phone. “Nothing from Lorelei,” she remarked.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed?” Jason asked. “I have a shirt you can wear as a night gown.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Tell me what else you need. There are towels in the cabinet in the bathroom.” He gestured toward a door.

“I’m pretty low maintenance.”

“You look low-maintenance to me.” Jason stepped into his room and returned with a short-sleeved cotton button-up shirt. “While you’re changing I’ll fold out the bed.”

Aja returned from the bathroom, wearing his shirt. Jason regarded her and how the light fabric contrasted with her dark skin. He scanned her from head to toe, taking in her long, shapely legs.

He plumped a pillow and set it on the folded-out mattress. She slid between the sheets. “It does feel good to lie down,” she said. “Good night, Jason.”

Jason closed the door to his bedroom. He stripped to his briefs and slid into bed, turning off the lamp. Ophthalmologist, he thought.

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