Chapter 2

Lynn was heartened a bit when, two days later, Gary brought home tickets to a concert. The group was one that Lynn especially liked and while she didn't feel she could afford a new dress, she did pick out a pretty blouse and skirt she had worn only a few times and in which Gary said she looked sexy. Her hopes were dashed, however, when Gary called from work on the day of the concert and informed her he would have to work late getting out a rush order.

"But can't they get someone else?"

"Honey, I tried every guy here, they all have something on for tonight."

"But, why you?"

"Because the boss says so. Look, I'll make it up to you, I promise! OK?"

Her voice was dispirited.

"Yeah, OK."

"Look," he offered, "why don't you call and see if you can get a friend to go with you. How about Susan? You said she likes that group as much as you do."

"Maybe... I'll call you if I decide to go."

"OK. Look, I'm sorry Lynn. I know how much you were looking forward to our going. I will make it up to you."

"It's all right Gary. I'll see you later tonight."

The disappointment rested heavily upon her. This was the first time in months they had planned a real night out together. She had also hoped for a romantic interlude upon their return. It had been almost two weeks since they had made love and Lynn was again beginning to question her own sensuality. She spent the evening reading but her mind kept wandering. She found herself rereading passages because thoughts of Trisha and Carl kept flashing through her consciousness. Why did Trisha's remarks keep repeating themselves? Why did they still leave her a bit breathless? Was it because Trisha and Carl were so experienced and a bit mysterious? Was it because what Trisha had suggested was so unthinkable yet, deep down, so alluring? Or was it because they were White? Lynn realized it was a combination of all three. She had always heard the stereotypes of the White women who were attracted to Black men. Yet, she realized, the reverse was also true. She had to admit to herself there was an aura of mystery concerning differences of sexuality in the races. She told herself it made no sense. Human bodies are pretty much the same, no matter the race and Black myths notwithstanding, she had been told by a close friend who had dated and bedded men of several races that there were, as she put it, "studs and duds" of every race. Yet the image of Trisha sensuously running her fingers through her hair repeatedly brought chills of excitement to her spine and her breath quickened when she imagined what might have transpired that evening two years ago. Her hand dropped to her lap as her eyes closed and her imagination supplied the imagery. The book fell to the floor as Lynn's other hand slid under her sweater and bra and found her breast, her nipples stiffening under the erotic stimulation. Her breathing became more rapid as her fingers began squeezing her sensitive nipples while her other hand unbuttoned her jeans and found its way beneath her panties. She gasped slightly as the fingers slid into her and found her mound of joy, the mound so ignored by her loving but inexperienced and inept husband. The images in her mind now were not of her husband but of a White man and woman slowly and sensuously stripping her naked and taking her to bed. Her fingers began to work feverishly as her clitoris began shooting jolts of pleasure throughout her. Lynn, in her mind, lay between the legs of the alluring White woman, her knees under her as the White husband approached her from behind. She was gasping for air now as one set of fingers squeezed and massaged while the other dug furiously at her nest. She began whining aloud as the man buried himself in her while her tongue and lips found the pink lips of the White woman's vagina. In her mind she could taste the woman, feel the man's penetration deep within, and her body, in the chair, began a vigorous thrusting to meet her fingers which she drove even deeper.

"Oh God! God, YES!" she cried as the orgasm swept over her.

As the imagery faded and her breathing began to slow, Lynn felt both shame for masturbating and a sense of longing, unfulfilled need.

Determined to both banish the illicit thoughts and achieve the physical intimacy with Gary which she so desperately needed, Lynn dressed in her most revealing lingerie and waited eagerly for her husband to return. But again, her hopes were dashed, when, after midnight, he trudged in proclaiming he was dog tired. He hardly seemed to notice her outfit as he grabbed a quick sandwich and they retired, Gary falling asleep almost immediately.

Lynn's frustration continued to build and her own dreams were filled with scenes of Black and White sexual decadence.